Vive le Miraculous
by SnoopyGirl213
Summary: Paris, 1789; one city, two worlds. On the streets, the people are starving and rioting. In Versailles, the people are spending and laughing. Marinette is the daughter of a baker, Adrien is a prince. They both take up a mask to try and save their friends, their families, and their beloved France. But will they succeed?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter pairings: Tikki&Marinette, one-sided Marinette/Nathanael, implied Marinette/Adrien, neglected!Adrien&Gabriel

Chapter Summary: Marinette meets an old and a familiar face. Adrien just wants someone to truly notice him.

 **A/N: I've been working on this since before I finished I'm Here to Dance, and I figured now was as good a time as any to post the first chapter. Just as a sort of feel to see what you guys like or don't like. I'm a little obsessed with the French Revolution as well as the 18th century as a whole so this is a product of that obsession.**

 **This is NOT going to be a 100% accurate impression of events, but merely inspired by real events. SO if anything doesn't make sense, go ahead and ask.**

* * *

Marinette counted herself among the lucky few to have a home and work in these times. Her parents were not considerably wealthy, but they had enough from their modest bakery to purchase for Marinette an apprenticeship with Tikki, one of the finest seamstresses in Paris. And Marinette tried to think she did the best with what she had.

"See now, 'tis always better to measure twice than to cut wrong, yes?" Tikki asked, pinning together a blue dress.

"Yes, Tikki," Marinette parroted back to her. She was peering over Tikki's shoulder, watching every move of her mistress' ministrations. There was no doubt that this dress was meant for someone in Versailles.

"There now, that's much better." Tikki stood to let Marinette once more go back to pinning the pieces of dress together. The garment hung over a mannequin, and was elevated by a platform so that they could work more easily. Marinette kneeled down and took the pincushion from Tikki's outstretched hand. As younger woman went back to pinning, the older went back behind her desk to nibble on the cookies she had received from her admirer. Marinette had never actually met this man, but she was fairly certain he lived somewhere in Versailles due to the extravagance of the gifts.

"So, Marinette," said Tikki through a mouth full of cookie. "I saw that young Nathanael came calling yesterday."

Marinette blushed, but her face was turned away so that Tikki couldn't see. The young woman ignored her and went on pinning.

"Whatever did he want?"

Marinette swallowed. "He- he wanted to show me some of his paintings sometime."

"Oh, how intimate. It must be such a joy to have the attentions of such a young talent."

Marinette did not turn her face to look at Tikki. "You aren't one to talk with your suitor's packages coming to the house at all hours of the day."

"Plagg is no suitor, we are in a very intimate, very committed relationship. Suitor would imply I may or may not return his affections."

"And yet, you never see each other. How can you love someone you don't see?"

"You are young, you don't understand. When you are young 'tis all caviar and smoke, until you get older and have to move on to more cheaper cuts. Such as writing letters and sending pastries."

Marinette did not speak after that, but a smile curled her lips. Once Tikki got to talking about Plagg, there was no stopping her, and it was the perfect distraction to get Tikki's attention off of Nathanael.

"You really ought to marry this artist," Tikki said offhandedly.

Damn. It would've worked too, if she had just asked one more question about Plagg. But one always had to play their cards right because Tikki usually got very defensive about her supposed lover.

"Why might that be?" Marinette asked, still not turning around as she surveyed her handiwork.

"Well, let us be honest, my dear, men are not lining up to marry you."

"Nor do I want them to. I would much rather just do my job."

"You must get married." Marinette wasn't entirely sure if Tikki was being serious.

"You aren't married."

"And look where it got me."

"A good career and a faithful admirer?"

Marinette heard Tikki sigh. "I doubt I'm the only one for him, Mari. A great man such as him cannot only think of me. It just can't be possible."

"You put yourself down too much." Marinette smoothed down the dress and finally turned back to Tikki. "There can you-"

A servant walked in just then and announced the arrival of Nathanael come to call once again.

"He's keen on you, missy," Tikki said, not looking up from her letter. "Better not let him go."

Marinette shrugged. "Will you check my work before I go?"

"Of course, of course." Tikki still did not look as Marinette went to the door to see Nathanael.

He was just as over dressed as he had been the day before, wearing a white suit with purple shirt and black boots, and a tie of red, blue, and yellow. He had a white hat on and a purple feather on top. He looked very out of place on the dingy Paris street, and many people were looking at him funny as they walked past. He didn't seem to mind, but his face brightened when Marinette came out of the house.

"Bonjour, ma fleur," he said with a grand bow and a sweep of his hat. Marinette colored and tried to think of a way to get out of being a fixture for street gossip.

"Good afternoon, Nathanael, did you forget something yesterday?" she asked, eyeing his outfit up and down.

"Not at all, in fact, I wanted to give you something." He snapped his fingers and the man with him handed Nathanael a bouquet who then handed it to Marinette.

"Oh…thank you," Marinette said, smelling the bright flowers.

"Flowers for ma fleur."

"Clever, I see. Um, thank you kindly, Nathanael. Is there anything else you wanted?"

He stepped an inch closer to Marinette who tried not to blush as she watched him.

"I- I realize how this is going to sound, Marinette. But I wanted to- well-"

Nathanael was cut off by a commotion in the street. A woman screamed as a little girl ran in front of a carriage to grab a toy she'd dropped. The carriage was not stopping. Before Marinette had realized what she was doing, she had ran forwards, grabbed the girl by the arm, and yanked her from the path of the carriage. The carriage jolted to a halt, but Marinette didn't notice.

"Are you alright?!" she asked the girl, who tried to run back to her mother.

"You filthy peasants! How dare you…"

Marinette wrenched her face up to the carriage where a woman with bright blue eyes and blonde hair piled high onto of her head and wearing a fancy dress leaned out of the window of the carriage to yell.

Nathanael seemed to fade into the background as Marinette stood in front of the girl. "'Twas your carriage that nearly crushed the girl!" Marinette spat at her.

"It should not be so stupid to run in front of a moving carriage!"

" _She's_ only a child, ma'am, and better acting than you or any of your kind!"

"How dare you-"

A hand fell on her shoulder and another face appeared in the small window of the carriage. "Lady Bourgeois, please. No harm was done," a man with fair features and face said. He must've been Marinette's age, but had clearly been groomed all of his life. He turned to Marinette and she felt her heart being seized by his green eyes. "Is the child alright?" he asked her.

"Manon! Manon!" Mrs. Chamack broke from the crowd and scooped up her child from the street. "I'd thought I'd lost you."

"She was not hit, sir," Marinette said to the man in the carriage. "I think she's fine."

The man turned his face away and pulled a few coins from his purse. "Give these to her mother, for their troubles."

Marinette reached a trembling hand out to take the coins and clutched them to her breast. He gave Marinette one more smile and turned away, calling for the driver to keep going.

Marinette felt a hand at her back and turned to see Nathanael. "You're trembling, my dear. Are you alright?" he asked.

Marinette blinked and looked down at the coins in her hand. The profile of King Gabriel looked back at her, and she looked back to Nathanael.

"What?" she said, not remembering what he had asked.

"Are you alright? You don't look well."

"I'm fine, I'm fine, um…" She turned to Mrs. Chamack who was berating Manon for running into the street, and tapped her on the shoulder. "The uh- the man-"

"The prince," Nathanael added.

"The- the prince?" Marinette repeated. "Um- well, he wanted you to have this." She held out her hand to the kneeling woman, who stood.

"No, no, I could never accept this. Take it, Marinette, please for saving my daughter, my world."

Marinette took her hand and pressed them into Mrs. Chamack's palm. "You have Manon, I can manage on my own."

Mrs. Chamack seemed as though she was going to cry as she wrapped her arms around Marinette and squeezed her tightly. "Thank you, thank you so much." She let go and grabbed Manon by the hand.

"Your parents could've used that money," Nathanael commented as Mrs. Chamack and Manon disappeared into the crowd.

Marinette shrugged. "They would not want money that they didn't deserve."

"You upset the Lady Chloe Bourgeois."

"That quim? Go on and ask me if I give two bushels of wheat."

Nathanael seemed jolted by her language, but Marinette did not mind. If he truly wanted to marry her, he should get used to her mouth. "She is not a woman to upset," he said.

"Aye, I noticed you disappeared as soon as she poked her ugly head out."

His face turned red and he spluttered. "I- I go to Versailles every now and then, I could not-"

"You have a reputation to uphold, I understand." Marinette shook her head. She had known Nathanael since they were children, and she was always surprised at how much he had changed. Though neither of their families were in the poorhouse, they were Parisian born and raised, and had been brought up in conditions much lower than Versailles.

"What is it that you wanted, Nathanael?" Marinette asked once more.

"N- never mind, are you still interested in seeing my art?" he asked, eyeing Marinette nervously.

"I may, though it will depend on whether Tikki requires my services."

Nathanael finally bowed his head and bayed his goodbyes, promising to return later in the work. Marinette was left alone on the street as she watched Nathanael with his high-falootin' suit walk down the street, his man tailing at his heels. Marinette scoffed and went back inside Tikki's shop before some lout tried to rob her.

When she saw that Tikki did not need her help. She excused herself and went up the stairs to the guest room next to Tikki's. Marinette sometimes slept there, but she wasn't interested in the bed. She went to the window, opening it without a difficulty, and climbed out onto the roof of the building. She stepped up farther until she was leaning against the chimney. Looking over the city, Marinette felt calm, but tired. The people ambling around the streets, tummies rumbling from no bread, and beyond the horizon, shining like a vision of heaven was Versailles in all it's glory.

* * *

Adrien sighed and kept looking out the window, doing his best to ignore Lady Chloe Bourgeois.

"I mean, can you believe the nerve of that- that- I'm not even sure we can call her a girl much less a woman!" she huffed indignantly.

The honorable Miss Sabrina DuBois nodded emphatically as her lady superior went on and on.

"Your highness, your highness!" Lady Bourgeois insisted. "Are you listening to-" She stopped and cleared her throat, no one demanded anything of Crowned Prince Adrien Agreste. "I mean, are we boring you, my prince?"

 _Yes, yes, a thousand times yes_ , Adrien screamed in his mind. "Not at all, Lady Bourgeois, I'm perfectly contented to listen to you ramble on about nothing important," he said, still looking out the window.

The two women laughed as if this was funny, and Adrien did his best not to frown. He failed.

"What is wrong, sir?" Miss Sabrina asked.

"It must be the fumes of this awful city," Lady Chloe insisted, and reached her hand out to close the blinds on their carriage.

Adrien looked away from the now covered window, but did his best not to meet Lady Chloe's eyes. For the past six months, every time he'd done so, she'd batted her eyes coquettishly and Adrien would have to fake a cough in order to hide his laughter at her idiocy.

Besides, he had noticed a different pair of eyes that day.

Judas, the fire in that girl's eyes as she yelled at Lady Chloe. Every social situation he'd been in had taught him that no one ever spoke to a person of higher birth like that, but this girl was right, and she was unafraid. He wondered what her life must be like, toiling away as a working class citizen, trying to make ends meet. Then finally she has had enough of what society has dealt her and stands up to the first noble she meets (who happens to be the one who deserves it the most). It was quite romantic, to say the least.

They soon entered Versailles and got out at the palace. Several ladies came out to meet and gossip with Lady Chloe and Sabrina as Adrien did his best to duck into the palace without the same ladies noticing him.

"Ah, I've been expecting you, Prince Adrien," his tutor, Mme. Nathalie Sancouer. Though, Adrien was fairly certain Mme. Sancouer had never been married, she had earned the title through her years of service to the Agreste family. Though, Adrien had long ago convinced his father to stop making him listen to her version of French history, he was never able to escape her as his personal coordinator.

"Tonight you have a dinner with-"

"The court, I haven't forgotten, Nathalie, don't worry. I'm back in time to change, aren't I?"

"Not in time for badminton, you're not."

Adrien froze and groaned aloud. He'd completely forgotten about badminton with a few of the men from his entourage. He had been itching to go back to Paris for the past week, and only was able to seize the opportunity when Lady Chloe had mentioned going to call on different dressmakers. In hindsight, he should've stayed and played badminton, but he honestly didn't feel that bad about it.

"Did my father ask about me at all?" Adrien asked as they entered his apartments.

Nathalie shook her head. "Not that I heard, my prince. You know he does not like to be disturbed."

"I am his son, his heir. I think I ought to know how to run my kingdom." Adrien stood still as the manservant undid his vest and shirt.

Nathalie moved behind a screen to allow the prince some privacy, though, Adrien had long been accustomed to strangers seeing him naked what with the people who could simply enter his apartments at any time.

"I shall let him know you wish to observe him work," Nathalie said behind the screen.

Adrien rolled his eyes as he stepped out of his breeches and stockings. His day clothes were taken away to be washed (though, Adrien knew he would never wear those clothes again), and the night's clothes were brought in. When he was dressed, a mirror was brought before him to look at himself. His face was powdered, his eyes were lined with kohl, lipstick was applied, and a fake mole was placed upon his cheek. He looked every bit a prince, and a clown. He sighed, but let Nathalie usher him out of his apartments. Outside of his sleep quarters were several men ranging in ages. They all stood and bowed for the Dauphin of France.

"How well you're looking, your highness," one bellowed.

"A pity you couldn't be there at badminton, your highness," said another.

"My most sincere apologies for not making an appearance, Lord DuPont," Adrien said, clasping his hands behind his back.

"It's quite alright, my prince," Lord DuPont, replied, as he was supposed to.

If he had offended anyone by not going, they would never say a thing. But that was the superficiality of Versailles, nothing really happened, everyone just acted like it did.

The entourage moved to the palace dining rooms with Adrien at the front of the group. He strutted down the hallway, delighting in the huffing and puffing most of the older men were displaying as they strained to keep up with the Prince. Adrien had refused the usual lifestyle of sitting around, sipping tea and cognac on a chaise in the shade. He preferred to go running and keep his body in good physical condition.

They entered the dining room to an announcement, and the entire table stood to greet the prince. Adrien's eyes flicked from the floor to the head of the table. His father's seat was empty.

* * *

 **A/N: I hope the dichotomy of the two worlds was set up well. One of total poverty, and the other of total wealth. I hope you guys enjoyed it.**

 **No reviews necessary, thank you for reading.**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Summary:Everything in Marinette's life changes in an instant. Adrien can't seem to change his mind in a moment.

Chapter Pairings: Marinette&Tikki, Adrien&Plagg

 **A/N: thank you for a nice reception of the last chapter, I hope you enjoy this next one**

 **Adrien and his band of followers all feels extremely Scarlet Pimpernel, (which is my favorite book, btw) and I can't tell why. Speaking of, I plan on referencing a lot of classic lit in this...so extra kudos if you can spot the references.**

 **Thank you to CursedRedRose and Syberella for reviewing the last chapter.**

* * *

Marinette rose early in the morning to help her parents prepare for the day's work. The two of them were whispering about the flour shortage. The year before had been a bad year for wheat, and the stored up flour was being depleted quickly. They didn't like worrying Marinette, but she knew what this would mean for their business. They had done their best to keep the price of bread as low as possible, but soon they would have to raise the price. And then, when all the flour went, so would their business.

Marinette was concerned. For her parents, for the bakery, for the city, for it's people, for Tikki, for Nathanael, etc. People were surviving on bread alone, but soon they would not even have that. The Parisians were already strained enough as it was with work, and only the dead were unable to feel the rising tensions of the lower classes towards the upper. The only thing Marinette could do was pray they could make it through the year and that the wheat would come back this year. Otherwise she feared more riots like earlier in the year, or worse. She kept her ear to the ground for a potential way out of Paris for her parents before the worst came, but otherwise Marinette wasn't sure of what to do.

After she'd helped them mix, knead, and fire the dough, she kissed her parents on the cheek and walked in the early dawn light to Tikki's shop. The shop was dark when Marinette unlocked the door. It was difficult to find the matches in the dark, but Marinette soon found the suckers and lit the candles littered about the room. Tikki was still asleep, and Marinette chose not to wake her. Instead she made herself a cup of tea, and sat at Tikki's desk.

She looked over the documents over Tikki's desk, one piece of parchment standing out among the rest. She pulled it out and squinted to read the fancy writing.

" _My dearest darling, I dreamt of you again last night. Your hair splayed over the pillow as you moaned my name from those perfect lips of yours. My mouth was somewhat occupied worshipping your-_ "

Marinette felt her heartbeat quicken and heat filled her nether regions as she slapped the letter onto the desk face down. She cleared her throat to herself and went back to sipping her tea. Curiosity gnawed at her, until she gingerly flipped the letter back over.

" _My mouth was somewhat occupied worshipping your perfect- Well, I know you hate it when I tease you, but I'm sure you are as red as your hair at this point. I enjoyed the cheese you sent me, you have the best taste. Unlike anyone else in this heavenly prison. Please accept these cookies, though I'm sure you do not need anymore sweet things. The world is sweeter with you in it. I understand that you will have lots of other letters from your other suitors, but I hope you will consider answering mine out of all our pleas_."

"Enjoying yourself?" Marinette jumped at the voice and dropped the letter like it was made of hot coals. She looked up to see Tikki in her robe leaning in the doorway. Marinette gulped.

"I was just- just-"

Tikki shook her head. "If you had wanted me to read Plagg's letter to you, all you had to do was ask."

"It just caught my eye is all." Marinette's heart was still pounding, and she was sure her face was red.

Tikki crossed the room and picked up the letter, scanning over the lines with her eyes. "Ah yes, this is the one he started with a sin and ended with a grace."

"He did surprise me," Marinette admitted. "Does he write all of his letters like that?"

Tikki shook her head as she continued to read the letter. "But he so does love to tease me, and he knows I get flustered easily."

"So the two of you haven't ever…" Marinette trailed off and hoped her meaning was clear.

"Only in my most lurid of fantasies, Mari." The grin Tikki shot her was enough to make Marinette giggle. "I sent that dress to it's buyer yesterday, so we should be getting what's owed to us soon enough. Come on, get started on the pantaloons we got an order for yesterday, and I'll be getting dressed.

* * *

Marinette moved to the other side of the shop and looked through the files for the measurements for the pantaloons. She and Tikki's day was so far proving to be uneventful until shortly after lunch. They were finished with about half of the pantaloons when a someone stormed through their door.

Both Tikki and Marinette looked up to see a young woman in a silly looking green dress with curves and bumps in extremely inconvenient places. Marinette internally groaned when she recognized the name. It was that lady yesterday from the carriage incident.

"Good afternoon, Lady Bourgeois," Tikki said calmly. "So nice to see you again. Have you come to order another dress? Or perhaps a cloak or other garment."

She snapped her fingers and her maid deposited a bundle of blue fabric on the counter.

"What is this?" Lady Bourgeois demanded.

Tikki picked at the lump. "Why, 'tis a dress."

The lady scoffed. "If you can even call it that! It is falling apart by the seams. How dare you send this to me! Do you know who I am?" Lady Bourgeois was waving her arms and her voice had reached a volume above anything else Marinette had heard.

"I apologize madame!" Tikki said emphatically. Marinette stood frozen, unsure of what to do. "Allow us to fix it, free of charge."

"It's too late now! I hope you enjoyed making that dress, because it will be the last you make in this town!"

Tikki clutched her chest. "Lady Bourgeois, you cannot mean to- no you wouldn't-"

"I would, by the end of the day your names will be told to everyone in town, and you will never work again!"

Tikki looked as though she would faint, and Marinette finally stepped forward.

"Whatever problems there may be with the dress, that would be my fault. I made it, not her!" she said, her face going hot with anger. "Leave her out of this!"

Lady Bourgeois looked Marinette up and down and curled her lip. "You! You must be that girl from the street! You did this purposely to embarrass me! I'm surprised even you would stoop so low!"

Marinette scoffed. "I am surprised, Madame. Would've thought you couldn't tell one foot from the other much less a commoner."

Lady Bourgeois seemed to inflate even more. "What is your name?!" she demanded coldly.

"That's between God and I, madame. Besides, what would you do to me? I'm a seamstress apprentice, daughter of a baker, your word carries no weight among my kind."

Marinette was so smug about her comment that she missed the man who came with the lady. Before she realized, he had walloped her across the face and Marinette fell.

"That'll teach you to talk to my lady like that," he said, standing over Marinette. Pain was enveloping the right side of her face, and she clutched at it, looking at her fingers to see if there was blood. The world was hazy and tears fell down her cheeks in waves.

"Come Kim, Sabrina, the Prince will be expecting us." Marinette held her hand over her face and stared at the three saunter out the door.

Tikki rushed over to Marinette and lifted her head into her lap.

"Marinette, Marinette, my child are you alright? Let me see, now." She gingerly lifted Marinette's fingers off of her face and inspected the wounded flesh. "You'll have a monstrous bruise, for certain. But there's no blood. Can you sit up?"

Marinette did one better and stood. She shook her head to hopefully make the dizziness go away.

"I did this," Marinette said. She leaned against the wall for balance, and wiped the tears out of her eyes. "That quim will drag your name through the mud and it's all because of me."

"I could have checked the parcel better, but I didn't." Tikki looked as though she was going to cry. She had worked hard to achieve her position and it only took one bourgeoise pig to pull it underneath her. "May as well go home, Mari. After we finish these pantaloons, I doubt we will be getting much work. Best spread it out."

"I cannot leave you alone." Marinette moved from her place on the wall to a chair closer to

"Please, leave me be. I must write a letter to Plagg and maybe he will comfort me."

Marinette shook her head as Tikki walked forlornly out of the room. She retrieved her cloak from the closet and headed out the door.

Marinette wrinkled her nose at the smell of the streets. Clearly a horse had been nearby recently. She walked past the faceless people and felt their misery wash over her. And soon she would be among them. Without Tikki's shop she'd have to go back to the bakery, which was soon going to fold because of the lack of flour. Just one day and her entire world had crashed onto the rocks.

She couldn't find the courage to go home yet, and instead found her way into an alehouse. Despite not usually one to hit the bottle, Marinette desperately needed a drink. Despite it being still around midday, the building was still fairly full. Marinette was sure she wasn't the only one who was hard pressed for a job in these times.

"What'll it be, darlin'?" the bartender asked. He was a man around Marinette's age with a large nose and tan skin. His glasses were large and thick so that his eyes seemed magnified to almost double their natural size.

"What've you got that's cheap?" Marinette

"Nothing, unless you're looking to poison yourself."

Marinette tilted her head to one side and pursed her lips. "That might be a considerable option."

The bartender shook his head and pulled out a glass from below the country. "Lager's pretty cheap, 4 silver pieces."

Marinette nodded and he moved to the barrel behind the bar to fill the glass. He put the glass on the table and Marinette slid four silver coins across the surface for him to pick up.

"So how'd that happen?" he asked, gesturing to his own face around his right eye. He was, of course, indicating the red mark on her face that stung like the sun did when you were looking directly at it.

Marinette took a sip and made a face. "It's"

"I said it was cheap, not that it was good."

Marinette nodded, and took another sip.

"Been in a fight?"

Marinette nodded. "My opponent is the one you ought to be worried for." She coughed as she spoke from the lager.

"'Tis a shame pretty women like you have to fight these days."

"Better than selling your body," a voice said from behind the kegs. A woman, with darker tan skin, and auburn hair came into view. "Though, I could never judge a woman who does."

Marinette met her eyes and then looked away. She heard shuffling and the woman took Marinette's head into her hands to inspect the newly forming bruise.

"Who did this?" she asked.

"My love, it is not any of your business who hurt her," said the man, placing his hand on her shoulder.

She shrugged it off and stared into Marinette's eyes.

"His name is Kim," Marinette answered. "He was with the Lady Chloe Bourgeois."

The woman cursed and stroked Marinette's face tenderly. "There be nothing on this earth I wouldn't give to see that woman hang."

"Alya!" said the man. "That isn't a Christian thing to say."

"Aye, good thing Lady Bourgeois is not a creature of God, but of the Devil."

"You ought to hold your tongue when there's company. You never know who's ears might lead directly to the queen bee herself."

The woman, Alya, let go of Marinette and reached for a broom.

"Do you know the Lady Bourgeois?" Marinette asked.

Alya scoffed. "Aye, she came trampling in here like she owned the blasted place and demanded the best liquor in the house. And then spat it in my husband's face when it was not to her 'satisfaction.'" She huffed and continued sweeping. "Then the cow demanded I serve her something better. I told her I'd rather stick a fork in my eye."

Marinette snorted and sipped her lager again.

"So, your name?" Alya asked.

"Marinette Dupain-Cheng, and yours?"

The man stepped forward, and laid his hand on Alya's shoulder. "I'm Nino Lahiffe, and this is Alya, my wife. We own this here alehouse."

"You married, Marinette?" Alya asked.

"No, ma'am," Marinette replied. "That would imply men find me desirable."

Alya cracked a smile and Nino moved away to help the other customers.

"You have a job?" Alya asked.

"I had, before the Lady Bourgeois came and took it from me." Marinette finished her lager, and pushed the glass away. "I had best be getting back to my home." Marinette started to stand, but Alya grabbed her hand.

"It's a shame things have to be this way," Alya said, staring to her eyes intently.

Marinette furrowed her brow. "And how should things be different?"

"Things can always change."

"Not anytime soon with the way things be going."

"Sometimes if things don't go your way naturally, force is the only option."

Marinette eyes widened as Alya flicked her own eyes to her husband. Force? Marinette had never said anything about force.

"I can see you're hesitant, never mind," Alya said. "Come back anytime, Marinette."

Marinette nodded and headed home. She was just another face in a sea of green and brown. Carriages rattled up and down the street carrying nobility and landowners to their personal destinations. She arrived at the bakery, and went inside. She was not looking forwards to talking to her parents.

"Marinette, _mon cher_ , what are you doing back so early?" her mother asked, coming forwards to embrace her daughter. She stopped halfway and her eyes widened. "Marinette, what happened to your face?!"

Marinette looked down and clenched her jaw.

* * *

Adrien yawned as Lord Durand went on yet another tangent during his "Legendary Fox Hunt of '67" story that the prince was sure he repeated at least once a season.

"…And for the life of us we could not figure out who could've fed the dogs such unrespectable-"

"So, you're highness," the young Lord Moreau asked, making the entire entourage look at him in shock. Durand was at least 30 years the young lord's senior and almost five ranks ahead of him. All in all, Moreau had no right to interrupt Durand.

However, Adrien visibly perked up at the question.

"I wasn't finished-" Lord Durand started saying with a red face.

Adrien held up his hand. "You have told us this story one too many times for your own good, Durand. Let us hear what Moreau has to say."

The young lord, who was only a year Adrien's younger, gulped and sat up straighter as all eyes fell on him. They were all hoping for him to say something, anything, wrong. "I had heard the rumors of your engagement to a princess of the Holy Roman Empire," he said.

Then all eyes fell on Adrien, who did not seem perturbed by the question. "They are rumors, that is all," Adrien said simply. "It was discussed when I was younger, but her mother did not approve of the girl going into politics. She does not have the head for it."

"Then when are you going to marry, your highness?" Moreau asked.

Adrien inspected his hand and fingernails as he shrugged so as to avoid anyone's eyes. "When a woman finally sinks her claws into my hide, I suppose." There was a light chuckle from this which lapsed into complaints of their own wives and mistresses. Adrien sighed inwardly.

His entourage liked when he put down someone down for a laugh, even though it gave Adrien no pleasure to do so. But he couldn't say the reason he didn't have an intended was because he hadn't met one woman of substance in his life. The members of the so-called "fairer sex" that resided in Versailles did not have one shred of sense between the lot of them, and all of the women he'd met outside of Versailles were so intimidated by his station that he could not determine their true worth. And his father did not seem to care whether he was alive or dead, much less if he was married or not.

He suddenly felt suffocated, and desperately needed to get away. He needed to think his own thoughts, with none of these sycophants chittering in his ear. He stood abruptly, and started heading for the gardens.

"Anyone up for a game of badminton?" he asked his entourage as they tripped over each other trying to keep up.

"Of course, my prince!"

"I was just about to suggest this!"

"Do you mind if I start, your highness?"

"No, me!"

Adrien rolled his eyes as the chorus of voices rose above their hasty footsteps. They entered the gardens where the servants started to set up the tent. Adrien put an order out for tea and took off his outer jacket to start. A few of the men stared, but he did not pay attention.

"Durand!" he called out as he picked up two rackets. The older man stepped forwards and Adrien held the racket out to him. He looked at the racket like it was an alien object. "Since Moreau did not allow you to finish your story, you may be my opponent for this first match."

"Th- thank you, my lord," he said. "But I am much too-"

"Oh, it's a crying shame, I had heard how my father expects his entourage to swim and run with him, how could you compete?" This was a low blow, Adrien knew Durand was doing everything he could to be promoted into the court of the king. And Adrien knew that being in the prince's entourage was only a stepping stone.

The older man accepted the racket and moved to the other side of the net.

"And please, remove your outer jacket, sir, I would hate to see you faint from heat," Adrien said. "In fact, all of you take off your outer jackets."

The lords looked at each other before piling the coats into a waiting servant's arms. Adrien smirked at the display, finally serving to a distracted Durand. The birdie fell to the lord's feet, who stared at it.

"1-0, Durand," he said. "Your serve."

The lord picked up the the birdie and moved to the left side of the court to serve. He batted the birdie over the net, and Adrien moved swiftly to bat it back. Durand moved rather quickly to return, but the birdie hit his side of the net and fell. This continued for a good three more rounds until Durand looked as though he was going to faint. Adrien was just getting warmed up, and was just as eager to leave his entourage. But he had to find the perfect cover first.

"Moreau!" Adrien called and the young lord stepped forwards. "Take Durand's place before he faints dead away."

The lord bowed and moved to the other side of the net. Durand seemed all too glad to pass over his racket, and lumbered over to the small pavilion with chairs the servants had set up. Moreau stood across from Adrien, his brown hair and silver vest shone in the sunlight as contrasted with his dull white shirt. It was no secret the Moreaus were on the lower end of society in Versailles. Adrien had accepted him into his entourage out of pity, and he was hopeful that the young man would prove to be a good opponent for badminton.

"Who's serve is it?" Adrien asked offhandedly, tossing the birdie up in the air and catching it.

"I believe it's yours, my lord," Moreau said.

"I believe it is, sir." Adrien said, batting the birdie over the net.

Moreau was quick on his feet, batting the birdie back. They did this sort of dance back and forth until the birdie finally fell next to Moreau's foot.

"Excellent, your highness," Moreau said. He was panting slightly, but was not quite out of breath yet.

Adrien twirled his racket in his hand and bowed. "Thank you, your serve."

They went back and forth for two more rounds before Adrien sighed and wiped the sweat from his brow, feigning fatigue. "DuPont!" he called out.

"Yes, my prince," Lord DuPont said as he stepped forwards. Moreau did his best to hide the look of fear on his face as he thought Adrien was about to replace him.

"Take my place a few rounds with Moreau, I require drink." Moreau looked relieved as Adrien handed his racket over to DuPont.

DuPont was four or five years Adrien's senior and seemed to have been born with a badminton racket in his hand. It was in fact him who had taught Adrien how to play when they were children. Adrien stepped to one side and took a glass of bourbon from a servant. DuPont was almost humiliating Moreau at badminton, and the lords were distracted. He could run, and they wouldn't se. He handed his glass back to the servant and turned to run.

"What is it, your highness?" a lord asked, Adrien could not think of his name. He turned back, wincing turning into a smile.

 _Quick, think of a lie_. "Uh- Has anyone see my jacket?" he asked.

Everyone, even DuPont and Moreau turned to look everywhere for the prince's jacket. The servants began moving carts, trays, chairs, and even each other to find the missing jacket. Everyone wanted to be the one who found it.

Adrien grabbed the "lost" jacket from behind a cart and slowly moved away from the group, that is, until he came to a hedge near the palace. He stuffed the jacket into the bush, and ran inside. His feet thudded against the marble floors, and echoed off the high ceilings. Or maybe that was his heartbeat thundering in his ears.

He stopped somewhere nearby father's throne room and leaned his head against the wall, feeling the cool stone against his hot neck.

"Judas," he said, kicking his heel against the wall. "Those rutting idiots with their fox hunting and their mistresses!" He slammed his fist against the wall and was unsatisfied by it's lack of movement. He wanted to tear the entire building apart piece by piece until there was nothing left. "Can't they see I am suffocating!"

"You ought not to talk to yourself, 'else people might talk about you." Adrien's head snapped to where the voice had come from. A man was sitting in a chair balanced on both the back legs and leaning against the wall with his hat over his eyes.

"Who- who are you, sir?" Adrien asked.

The man shrugged. "Someone who would prefer to be left to their nap."

Adrien moved closer to the man. "I'm Adrien."

The man sighed as if Adrien's introduction meant he would have to involve himself, and leaned forwards, lifting his hat from his eyes. His skin was darker than night and he had hair that stood straight up despite being under a hat. His eyes roamed up and down Adrien's body and his lips curled in amusement. "I am the humble and notorious Sir Plagg." He waved his hand and did a pseudo-bow while still sitting down. "And you are Adrien, the poorly dressed prince."

Adrien blinked at his comment, but ignored it. It was refreshing for someone to make light of a small indiscretion rather than act as though it were the end of the world. "Are you part of my father's court?"

Sir Plagg shrugged. "I am a knight of your father's court. Should the need arise for a fighter, I am here to defend the crown."

"But you're sleeping."

Plagg shrugged. "A tiger may nap in the sunlight, but it's jaws will still rip you to shreds."

"Do you fancy yourself a tiger, sir?"

"Someone has to be." Sir Plagg leaned the chair back against the wall and put his hat back over his eyes.

Adrien looked him up and down and noticed something attached to his belt. "You carry a sword?" he asked.

Sir Plagg patted his belt. "Every respectable gentleman does."

Adrien turned as he heard voices from the other end of the corridor.

"Perhaps the dauphin has gone to see his father," he heard Nathalie say.

Adrien groaned and started to head towards the other end of the corridor.

"They'll catch you," Sir Plagg said.

"Then what do you suggest I do?"

"Go back to your apartments and say you had to change jackets."

"I only just got away."

"Then jump over the wall and go to Paris for the day. Though, you may want to pick up a jacket on your way out."

"That's- you- you can get over the wall around Versailles?" Adrien lost all thought at this careless admission.

Sir Plagg nodded. "The wall behind my cottage is not guarded regularly. It would be easy to just jump over and walk to the city. That is, if you're careful."

Adrien saw the first figures of the group looking for him appear around the corner, and cursed. He desperately wanted to know more, but wanted to be found less. Adrien started running towards his apartments. When he arrived, he laid on one of his couches and waited for someone to find him. Nathalie did, after almost a half an hour and Adrien was nearly asleep.

"Your highness!" Nathalie called as she rushed to Adrien's side. "Where have you been?"

Adrien lifted his head casually and blinked at her. "I came to retrieve a new jacket, but then decided to lay down."

Nathalie sighed and stood. "Did you enjoy badminton?"

Adrien nodded just as Moreau, DuPont, and Durand all rushed into the room with several other lords on their heels. Durand thrusted Adrien's jacket under the prince's nose.

"I found it, your highness, it was in a bush. Someone must've stolen it and-" Durand started babbling.

"He is a liar, your highness, I found it!"

A cacophony of sound erupted as the lords quarreled over who had found the jacket.

"My lords!" Nathalie yelled and everyone quieted down. "It is time for the prince to change for dinner, and I suggest you all do the same."

They all looked sheepish and moved out of the room one by one. Adrien sighed and stood, thanking Nathalie for getting rid of his entourage. Adrien glanced up at the door and was surprised to see Sir Plagg standing there, winking at Adrien before disappearing.

"Come, your highness," Nathalie said as she held the door open to his dressing chamber.

Adrien walked through the door and into the next room. "What do you know of Sir Plagg, Nathalie?" he asked.

Nathalie looked puzzled. "He is a knight for your father, why?"

"Can you invite him into my entourage?"

Nathalie nodded, but still looked puzzled. "Why your highness would want a simple knight when he may have any lord-"

"I wish it to be so, Nathalie. Please respect that."

"Of course, your highness."

* * *

 **A/N: I'll try to be consistent in updates, but we'll see how it goes. I'm not finished, and I don't even know if I will.**

 **the princess mentioned who may have been married off to Adrien would have been Marie Antoinette. (though, she would've been Marie Antoin) She was a member of the Hapsburg family, who ran the Holy Roman Empire (despite the fact that, at this point in history, it was not holy nor Roman, nor an empire). And it is true that Maria Theresa (Marie's mom) said that Marie did not have the head for politics. (Though, honestly, if we were being truly historically accurate, Gabriel would be Louis XVI (Marie's husband) and not Adrien, but its made for a good line so I ran with it.)**

 **(Also...technically the game badminton wasn't invented until the 1800s...but it just seemed like the perfect game for a bunch of overdressed Frenchmen to be playing in Versailles)**

 **No reviews are necessary**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Summary: Marinette gets an offer, and Adrien makes one.

Chapter Pairings: Marinette/Nathanael, Tikki/Plagg,

 **A/N: thank you for the reception. I tried to look up 18th century French painters to gain some perspective on what Nathanael's paintings might look like, but I guess that was a bit of a dry period for artists in that part of the world. I can't say I don't understand, I mean, it was an uncertain time. Careers weren't open to talent, plus who really knows what was lost in the revolution.**

 **Anyways, thanks to CursedRedRose, and the two guests who reviewed.**

* * *

Dinner came and went, and Plagg did not join Adrien's lords for his entourage. Nathalie bid him goodnight at his apartments after telling him his schedule for the next day. After she was gone, Adrien poked his head into his dressing chamber and told the servant standing there that he was going for a short walk in the gardens and would be back soon.

The unplanned freedom for the second time that day was more than Adrien could bare. He was grinning from ear to ear as he stepped lightly through the gardens of Versailles. His great-grandfather had the gardens made specially to be heaven on earth. In fact the whole of Versailles was meant to be a paradise for the rulers of France to retreat to in order to run the country better.

Adrien was approaching a small pond when he heard a sound of eating and he looked around. His eyes widened and he realized that it was a dark figure sitting at the water's edge. The prince moved next to the man.

"Is this why you declined my invitation to join my entourage?" Adrien asked.

Plagg looked up at him with a disgusted look, which quickly turned to surprise. "I cannot decline an invitation I do not receive," he said.

Adrien sighed, Nathalie had not honored his wishes. "You are invited."

"I decline."

Adrien furrowed his brow. "Why?"

"I'm allergic to too many brainless twits in one room."

Adrien coughed out a laugh. "Too true. Do you mind if I join you?"

"If I said no to the very Dauphin of France, I could lose my title. So I suppose you may."

Adrien sat next to Plagg at the water's edge and debated taking his shoes and stockings off to dip his feet in the water. He decided against it and leaned back against his arms.

"Sir Plagg?" Adrien asked.

"Just Plagg."

"Plagg then, which cottage is yours?"

Plagg continued eating whatever he was eating and swallowed. "Expecting to pay me a visit or the city?"

Adrien gulped. It was very presumptuous to assume what a prince would call for. "Both I suppose." Then again, this situation was not all together commonplace.

Plagg nodded and offered Adrien a piece of cheese. Adrien declined.

"Did you ever live in Paris?" he asked Plagg.

Plagg nodded. "I was born there."

"I am not even Parisian." Adrien laughed sadly at this fact. "I wasn't born in the city, I was born in Versailles."

"With a gaggle of nursemaids awaiting your exit from between your mother's legs."

Adrien blinked and made a face. "Don't talk about my mother that way."

"Why not?"

"She is your queen."

"She was my queen, and now she be dead. I have no queen."

"She does not deserve someone to talk about her so- so vulgarly."

Plagg shook his head. "If you can't take one jab at the royal family or at your mother, you won't last one minute on the streets of Paris."

Adrien looked at the water, jaw still clenched.

Plagg sighed. "Your mother was a good woman, no finer lady in all of Versailles, perhaps even the world. But you don't understand what it's like in Paris, petite dauphin."

"I have been there, I have seen the people."

"But you haven't felt their suffering. You look down from your golden carriage and they look up and spit in your face. So you close the curtain and damn them for judging you. But the Parisian doesn't care, no, the Parisian has to work and toil for half the amount bread's worth."

Adrien looked up, startled. "They cannot even afford bread?"

Plagg shook his head. "The unskilled laborer makes half of what a loaf of bread is worth in a day."

Adrien scoffed. "Then they should save."

"Ah yes, save their money, and only eat every other day. And then what of living expenses? What if they have a family or relatives that need to be taken care of? What if they get sick and can no longer work? Now tell me, petite dauphin, what did you eat at that fancy dinner of yours tonight?"

Adrien felt his entire body heat up with embarrassment. "Uh, well- you must see…" He trailed off and itched the back of his neck.

"God's word says 'Man cannot live off of bread alone,' and we expect them to not even have that."

Adrien shook his head. "What must be done? What can I do?"

"You're so willing to accept what I say as fact, what if I'm lying to you?"

Adrien balked. "Are you?"

Plagg sighed and shook his head. "I wish I was, little prince."

Adrien stood and began to pace next to the pond. "So you're just going to sit there next to a pond eating cheese while the people of- while my people are starving to death?"

Plagg shrugged. "What can I do? It's not as if my father is the kind of all France."

Adrien stopped and looked down in the water. "My father…" he breathed. He knew what he had to do as he turned and ran back to the palace. Past the guards, past the rooms, and into his father's apartments.

"Your highness, your father is-" a servant called after him as Adrien burst through the door of his father's study.

His father was sitting at his desk, surrounded by ministers. His cold, grey eyes flicked up to Adrien as he stood in front of his father. Adrien bowed deeply in front of his father, and suddenly realized his jacket and pantaloons were covered with mud.

"Adrien," King Gabriel said unemotionally.

"Father, I-" Adrien started.

"Leave us." The ministers filed out of the room, one by one.

Adrien held his tongue until they left. "Father, I'm-"

"Just because you have certain liberties as la Dauphin, does not mean you can burst into my chambers unannounced, and smelling like a swamp."

Adrien's jaw dropped. "I am not an errant child or a backwater lord, I am your son!"

The King stood from his chair and looked Adrien dead in the eye. "Right now you look very much like the former, I did not raise you to be like this."

"You didn't raise me at all! Nathalie did that for you!"

"Did you sincerely come to berate me on my apparent failings as a father according to you, or do you have something to say?"

"The people of Paris are starving."

"And?" His face remained unchanged.

"They cannot even afford bread, father! They-"

"There was a bad harvest of wheat last year, arrangements for more flour to be shipped in have already been arranged." The king looked back down at his desk and sat down.

"But if we import the flour, won't that drive the price of bread up?"

"At least your economics lessons have not gone to waste. We have to accommodate for shipping costs somehow."

"But we are doing nothing to accommodate people's wages?"

"And lose more money? I don't think so."

"Just for the year, the wheat harvest must be doing better this year."

"When did you become so involved with the wants of the people?"

"They're our people father, we are just as French as them!"

"How do you know they are starving? Have you gone out the door and asked them?"

"No, I- I-"

The king held up his hand and Adrien fell silent. "I have entertained you long enough, and now you are wasting my time. Leave my study immediately, and send the ministers back in."

"But father-!"

"Out, Adrien, now!" he shouted at Adrien, his face contorted with fury. Adrien stepped back and the King lowered his gaze back to his desk.

Adrien bit his lip to hold back his tears of rage. "I'm sorry to have disturbed you, my King," he said, fighting to keep the bite out of his voice.

"You are forgiven, now go."

Adrien bowed once more, and then left the chamber. He barely saw the ministers as they filed back into his study. He walked out of the apartments and into the corridor, where Plagg was waiting for him.

"How did it go?" he asked Adrien.

"He is importing flour from out of the country to make up for the losses last year. Which will drive the price of bread even higher."

Plagg cursed and leaned his head against the wall. "I had hopes."

Adrien shook his head. "Nothing is be done then, we have lost."

Plagg made a noise of doubt. "Well, you could bring these concerns to the delegates for the Estates-General."

"The Estates-General has been called?"

Plagg looked at him incredulously. "Yes, it was called in January of this year."

"The resurrection of a dinosaur that is for sure."

"A testament to how bad things are going then."

"Who are the delegates?"

"There are 291 delegates for the Second Estate, I will find you the names of as many as I can."

Adrien sighed. "Why do you care so much about the state of Paris anyway? You live in Versailles."

Plagg looked down. "There's someone in Paris worth saving, for me at least."

Adrien blinked, he was surprised. "Who?"

Plagg shook his head. "A gentleman does not kiss and tell."

"Ah, then it's a woman." Adrien smirked and leaned against the wall.

"Aye, a very fine woman."

"Are you going to marry her?"

Plagg shrugged, not meeting Adrien's eyes. "She must have dozens of suitors."

"Do any of those suitors live in Versailles?"

"If the way things are don't change, there may not be a Versailles for much longer."

Adrien's smile faded and he straightened up, brushing off the front of his jacket. "There's nothing more we can do tonight, so I'm off to bed. The offer to join my entourage still stands, Plagg."

"As does the rejection. Goodnight, sweet prince."

Adrien left Plagg leaning against the wall, thoughts of what to do swimming in his head.

* * *

Marinette and Tikki finished the pantaloons the next day, and sent them to their buyers. There was still the option that they might reject them and not pay Tikki. Marinette felt terrible about everything that had happened. Tikki had bills and creditors to pay. And who would buy from her now that Lady Chloe Bourgeois had told all of her friends that this shop was no good. The Bourgeois were high up in the court of King Gabriel, and there had even been talk among the nobility that Lady Chloe might marry the Dauphin of France himself.

The Dauphin, at the very thought of the name Marinette remembered those green eyes and how they had held her gaze steadily. She was not a simpleton, she knew it was pointless to pine after a nobleman with a pretty face.

She had much a better chance with Nathanael. Though, she knew the reputation of being an artist's wife. Money could come and go just as quickly as the weather, and artists were not exactly known for their fidelity. But at least Marinette might be able to see Versailles, and have some nice things.

But that wouldn't solve the problem of what to do with Tikki. She would need a job, or a husband, and neither of those things would be easy to come by.

She agreed to see Nathanael's paintings in order to perhaps secure his affections before he heard about what Chloe had spread around. He picked her up in a carriage and dropped them off at a building very near to Versailles. Though it was not nearly as fancy as the royal homes and palaces, Marinette still felt like a dirty child in her brown cloak and green dress. Nathanael was in a regular navy blue suit with a top hat and a brown vest, rather than any strange clothes he wore to Versailles.

Marinette slipped her arm into Nathanael's and he led her into the building and up the stairs to his gallery.

"I must apologize for the mess," he said as they crossed the threshold. "It still isn't finished yet."

Marinette was immediately surprised by the sheer amount of the paintings. She would never had imagined anyone would have enough time for this much art in the world.

There were some people there as well looking at the paintings.

"Those are art scouts for different potential clientele," Nathanael told Marinette when he noticed her staring at the different men looking at the paintings. "In fact, I must speak with one of them in particular. I will return in a moment, Marinette."

"Alright," Marinette said as she started looking at a painting of a woods in autumn.

She moved slowly around the room, looking from one painting to another. There were some paintings of people, but they were mostly of scenic landscapes. Marinette supposed most of his paintings of people were commissioned, and in his downtime he preferred to travel and paint what he saw.

She looked at a painting of a sailboat and water, tilting her head in an artistic manner. Nathanael cleared his throat and guided her by the small of her back to another painting.

"I- I had wanted to show you this painting, Marinette," he said.

Marinette blinked several times as she stared at the painting. It was a woman sitting at a bench in a beautiful park. Her dress was light pink in the latest fashion of Versailles, her skirts billowing out and bows pinning up to reveal parts of her skirts. Her hat was wide-brimmed and had feathers and ribbons coming off in all sides. A pink ribbon was tied around her throat. Her face was turned away from the painter, and her skin was as white as marble. Her blue-black hair was curled under her hat and around the side of her neck, dipping down towards her bosom. Her bluebell eyes looked dream-like on whatever she was focusing on.

"S'that…me?" Marinette asked.

She heard Nathanael visibly gulp, and she turned to look at him.

"Marinette…I- I heard what happened with Lady Bourgeois," he said.

Marinette's face fell and she turned back to the painting.

"You ought not to have upset her."

"I don't give a fig about what that woman thinks. She's all up on her pedestal and thinks she can just walk all over everyone."

"Regardless, you- you will need someone to take care of you now in these difficult times."

Marinette felt her face heat up, and looked at the floor. Even though this is why she had come, Marinette found she did not want to deal with this now.

"I- I know having an artist as a husband won't give the steadiest of incomes but-"

"Nathanael I-"

"Please, let me finish. I could off you a home, and a station. We could go to parties at Versailles and you could be the subject of many of my paintings. So, Marinette, will you have me?"

Marinette gulped, her face burning red with embarrassment and pressure. "Nathanael, I-" she cut herself off to bite her lip.

"You are rejecting me, damn, I-"

"No, no, I'm not." Marinette gripped his arm and looked deeply into his eyes. "Just- the ways things be going, I'm not sure a family is something I want to be starting. If you read me, I mean, the riots don't seem to be stopping any time soon. Would it be right to bring a child into this?"

"We wouldn't have to have children for a while," Nathanael offered.

Marinette shook her head. "So many things are uncertain now, and I don't want to put myself or anyone I love in danger."

Nathanael mumbled something under his breath and then huffed. Marinette raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"I- I know someone in London, who could maybe get us a house there. We could move there, and not have to worry about the tensions in Paris."

Marinette blinked and uncrossed her arms. She knew Nathanael was serious about his affections, but not that he would be willing to move countries to please her. "I can't let you do that for me, Nath." Her childhood petname for him softened his eyes and he smiled at her, taking her hand.

"I would do anything for you, Marinette."

Marinette blinked and looked down once more. "What about my parents? I can't leave them behind."

"They can come with us. I'm sure they can set up a bakery in London."

Marinette stared at the painting once again. Here was a man willing to throw his heart, his pride, and his country away to make her happy, and she was hesitating.

"It's a lot to take in," she said. "Let me think a while on it, please."

Nathanael squeezed her hand and let go. "However much time you need, I'm willing to give."

"It's a beautiful painting."

"You may have it if you wish, it is you after all."

Marinette shook her head and laughed slightly. "And how would that look? Me strolling through the streets with a painting under my arm, guard would most certainly say I'd stolen it."

Nathanael also laughed. "I would have it delivered to you, of course."

Marinette shook her head. "I'd have no place for it. It would certainly look out of place among my things. No, keep it, Nath, please."

Nathanael lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. "As you wish, mademoiselle."

An art scout approached Nathanael then and they talked business for a moment. Marinette occupied herself with staring at her painting some more. Every detail seemed to be almost lovingly painted into the canvas.

"Sir, let us resume talking business after I send this lady home safely," Nathanael said as he held his arm out for Marinette to take.

"Of course, M. Nathanael."

Marinette slipped her arm through Nathanael's, and he lead her outside to where his carriage was waiting.

"This carriage will take you back to your parent's bakery," he said, kissing Marinette's hand once more before sending her off.

She stayed in the carriage until they came close to the center of town.

"That's far enough, sir, I can walk from here," she said to the driver.

"Mademoiselle, I have orders from M. Nathanael to-" Marinette cut him off by shoving two silver and ten bronze coins in his face. "Have a pleasant day, mademoiselle." He swiped the coins out of her palm and she stepped out of the carriage. The driver flicked the reigns and the carriage rattled down the street.

Marinette was not willing to show up to a poorer part of town in a carriage. Nor was she willing to head home quite yet. She headed back to the Red Lion to see Alya and Nino again. The day before she had been surprised by the woman's pure nerve at mentioning things changing by force. But, after sleeping on it, she wanted to know what that might mean exactly, and how she could help. Maybe not with violence, but it couldn't hurt to educated herself either.

There were even less people today than there were yesterday, and Marinette went directly to the bar.

"Hello again," Nino said.

"Good afternoon, M. Lahiffe, how is your wife?" Marinette asked.

"Why don't you ask her yourself?" Alya asked, moving next to Marinette.

"Good afternoon, Mme. Lahiffe."

"And to you, Mlle. Dupain-Cheng."

"I wanted to ask you about…about how things are…" Marinette bit her lip, hoping her request was clear.

Alya furrowed her brow. She flicked her eyes towards Nino, but then back to Marinette.

"Come with me to the back," she said and Marinette followed her into a back room. There was a table with chairs sat around it, and the two women sat down.

"What is it that you wanted?"

"You said things need to change…"

"Aye, they do, don't you agree?"

"Wholeheartedly, but how?"

Alya sighed and smoothed out the front of her dress. "Nino keeps saying the Estates-General will be our saving grace, but I am not so optimistic."

Marinette furrowed her brow. "What?"

Alya blinked and then nodded her head. "It wouldn't be so surprising if you didn't know. The Estates-General is a group of men who gather here in Paris to decide on the issues of France. There's three separate groups of men who go: the First Estate who represents the Church and the Clergy, the Second Estate which represents the nobility, and the Third Estate that represents everyone else. The First and Second Estates split 50% of the vote and the Third Estate gets the other 50%."

"Why haven't I heard of this before?" Marinette asked.

"Because the last one was called in 1614, nearly a hundred-and-eighty years ago." Alya reached across the table and picked up a book. Out of the pages she pulled a pamphlet which she handed to Marinette. "Here, for you to educate yourself."

Marinette took the pamphlet and turned it over in her hands.

"You can read, can't you?"

Marinette nodded. "I can read." The words "Qu'est-ce que le tiers état?" were printed on the front. The pamphlet was signed by Abbé Sieyès. "Who's M. Sieyès?"

"He be a clergyman who understands the importance of the working class."

"Is that us?"

"Aye, mademoiselle."

"But you don't believe anything will be done at the Estates-General?"

Alya shook her head. "The upper classes make up 5% of the people, but 50% of the vote. They most certainly will not vote for change."

Marinette shook her head. "Something must be done. We can't go one living like this."

Alya sighed and nodded. "Aye." She side-eyed Marinette and pursed her lips. "If you were ever to- uh, want to participate in the changing of things, come here after midnight on Thursdays. When they ask who's calling say 'Jacques.'"

Marinette's eyes widened and she stood. "I- I think you misinterpret my meaning, Mme. Lahiffe. I merely want to educate myself, I am no rebel."

Ally's face turned bright red and she shook her head. "No, mademoiselle. We be not rebels, but free-thinkers. Do you know what they call that in America? Free speech, and if it be good enough for those hicks, ought to be good enough for us."

Marinette chuckled and pushed her chair in. She slipped the pamphlet into her shirt so as not to lose it. "I will think about attending your meetings of 'free-thought', in the meantime I must help my parents with their bakery. Goodbye, Mme. Lahiffe."

"Goodbye, Mlle. Dupain-Cheng."

Marinette left the lady at the table, and headed back home. Hopefully more, cheaper flour had come in for their bread.

* * *

 _[Delegate of the Second Estate to the Estates-General]_

 _Good day, sir, I hope you are well. I thank you for representing France's elite._

 _It has come to my attention that the people of the Third Estate have been treated unfairly. Wages are low, and prices are high. The bad season for wheat has not proven helpful either._

 _The Third Estate is the very spine of our society, and our lives would not be the same without them. I strongly encourage you to vote for higher wages and lower taxes for our French brothers._

 _Thank you for your concern._

 _Prince Adrien Agreste, Dauphin of France_

* * *

Adrien yawned and scratched the back of his neck. He had been sitting in this chair for nearly three hours, and it wasn't getting any more comfortable. He longed for a break so he could stretch his legs, but he was determined to wait at least until the first break. Plagg sat next to him, snoring in his chair.

They were sitting in a balcony above the Esates-General in the Hôtel des Menus Plaisirs, listening to the arguments made. Adrien had spent the two weeks leading up to the assembly writing letters to all 291 delegates. Today was the third day, and Adrien desperately hoped something would actually get to something important. Thus far they had only bickered back and forth about how voting would be counted. The first speaker, M. Necker, had given a three hour speech. The second day, the King had come and announced that the votes would be split equally among the three estates. Which had started the argument that was still going on to this, the next day.

Finally there was a break and Adrien woke Plagg to go and get some lunch at the palace.

"What did I miss?" Plagg asked through a yawn.

"Absolutely nothing," Adrien answered as they exited the building. He tapped the shoulder of a servant, who almost fainted at the proximity to the dauphin. "Can you see to it that if they move on from the topic of votes, I am notified?"

"Yes, your highness!"

Adrien thanked him and moved on. "There, now we may at least save ourselves the trouble of sitting and listening to them talk."

"Aye, instead we pass it on to that poor sot."

"What do you suggest we do, Plagg?"

The knight shrugged. "You sent the letters to the delegates, correct?"

"Yes, all 291, my hand still hurts from writing so much."

"There then be not much more we can do, 'cept wait."

"And do what? Play badminton?"

Plagg shook his head. "Always hated the game."

"It's not so bad. Depends on your partner and opponents."

"You could say that 'bout most anything, your highness."

Adrien laughed and nodded. "Yes, yes you could."

* * *

 **A/N: everything mentioned about the Estates General (from the way it's organized to the very place it meets) is completely true.**

 **"Qu'est-ce que le tiers état?" means "What is the Third Estate" and is a real packet written by Emmanuel Joseph Sieyès, a real French revolutionist.**

 **(Plagg is such a joy to write)**

 **Thanks for reading, no reviews are necessary**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Summary: What happens in the shadows goes often unnoticed. Especially if those shadows are in someone's mind.

 **A/N: There's more action in this chapter than the others. I hope it's portrayed correctly, I have trouble with doing it almost all the time.**

 **Thanks to MiraculousLadybugFan995, mason32, and CursedRedRose for reviewing**

* * *

Some days were better than others for Tikki. When her fifth order canceled, she finally broke down. Marinette found her in her kitchen, drinking whiskey and crying. Marinette took the bottle away from her, and helped the older woman up into her bed. All the while, Tikki was rambling.

"I was a hero, dammit! I fought in the war as much as those sots in Versailles, did'y'know that, Marinette? I fought more than King Gabriel himself. Ladybug, that's what they called me, I was their lucky charm!" She sobbed and Marinette cradled Tikki's head on her shoulder.

She continued to ramble on about her days as a spy during the war, until she finally fell asleep. Marinette tucked her in, and left strict instructions with what little servants remained to not give her alcohol, and to take care. But the young woman had more to do that day.

Marinette had finished the pamphlet by M. Sieyès the day Alya had given it to her. These ideas seemed radical to her, but made perfect sense. Why shouldn't she should have just as equal representation in the government as the King and the clergy did?

She was still hesitant to attend Alya's group of "free-thinkers," but she had to ask more questions about the Third Estate. So she kissed her parents on the cheek and told them she'd be back later.

It had been a couple of weeks since she'd last seen Alya, and she hoped the Estates-General had gone well. Surely the assembly had gone and passed since the time she'd last been in the Red Lion.

The street was less crowded than usual, and Marinette was in quite a chipper mood as she walked the streets. She was almost there when she heard a commotion at the other end of the street. She turned and saw a giant cart being pulled by two horses, and people swarming around it like ants.

She moved closer to see what was going on. The cart was piled high with burlap sacks, and these seemed to be the the objects of the swarms populous' attention. There were guards around the sides shoving people aside as they swarmed around the cart. People were screaming and trying to grab the sacks off of the cart, and Marinette couldn't tear her eyes away. She ran closer to try and pull people away.

"Stop, stop!" she said, trying to pull people away from the sacks. "What could even be in those sacks?"

She got her answer almost immediately. An older woman wrestled with a guard over the sack she had somehow managed to grab from the cart. The sack split at the seams and a thick, white powder poured out like water, covering the street and people's clothes. Growing up in a bakery taught Marinette a lot, and she could recognize flour anywhere.

She was panicking now. If the people took all this flour away, there most certainly would be none left for her parents or any other baker in the city. Marinette tried her best to pull people away, screaming about how it wasn't worth the frenzy. She was knocked to the ground and she scrambled away in order to avoid being trampled. She seeked shelter in an alley, and shooed away the rats in order to sit down. She watched the chaos and cacophony unfold down the street like a sick traveling carnival.

Marinette's ears perked up when she heard a shout over the crowd and a sickening crack. Puffs of white smoke floated above the heads of the people, and she got to her feet. People were screaming even louder now, and running away. Another crack was heard and the crowd parted to see the guards with their rifles up and pointed at the crowd. Several people had fallen to the street and were clutching their various wounds.

Marinette rushed forwards to cup the head of a fallen man who still seemed to be conscious. His eyes roamed around the street, not focusing on anything.

"Freeze!" a guard shouted, and Marinette raised her hands in surrender. He pointed his rifle at her and Marinette felt tears swimming in her eyes from anger and fear.

"Look at what you've done!" she screamed at him, gesturing to the bodies on the street. Some of them were still writhing and moaning. Red blood mixed with white flour to make a reddish thick sludge on the street.

"We have our orders from the king, girl. Now run along!"

Marinette stood and refused to move.

"I'm warning you!"

Every fibre of her being was shouting to move, but she stood her ground. The guards finally ignored her and moved on with the cart of flour. Marinette dropped to her knees to look at the man once more, but he was dead. His eyes were open, and not focused on any particular object. Tears flooded her eyes and she stood up.

Her mind was swimming with emotions, but no definitive thoughts formed from the soup. She stepped over the bodies and headed down the street to the Red Lion. She felt as though she was sleepwalking.

The door to the Red Lion was closed, and Marinette knocked. Her hand was nervous and timid at first, but then it became frantic as she suddenly wanted to get away, escape the situation she had just witnessed. The door cracked open and Alya's eye peeked out.

"We're closed! Too much- Marinette?" she said, sounding surprised.

"P- please, let me in."

The door swung open all the way and Alya pulled Marinette inside. She slammed the door behind them and latched it.

"We heard shots so we closed immediately. What happened?"

Marinette felt tears falling down her face, and her tongue was tied up in knots. Alya rubbed her back and Nino quickly poured Marinette a drink. She tossed back the whiskey, coughing from the strength and cleared her throat.

"It- it was horrible," she breathed.

"What happened?"

"A cart was carrying flour, and people- they were trying to take the sacks. The guards- they shot them," Marinette said.

Alya gasped and looked at Nino.

"How many dead?"

Marinette shook her head, closing her eyes and seeing the bodies lying in the street imprinted on her eyelids. "Why did they shoot. Alya? Why did the people try and take the flour?"

"They're starving," Nino said. "They can't even afford to wait until it's baked into bread, much less spare the money to buy the bread."

"The king- the king ordered the guards to shoot anyone who tried to take the flour."

Both of the Lahiffe's eyes widened, and they looked at each other.

"Nino…" Alya breathed.

"The _Papillon_ himself, huh. This will prove to be interesting."

Marinette gulped and pulled M. Sieyès's pamphlet out of her shirt and showed it to Alya.

"I- I had come to ask questions," she said, still shaking.

Alya chuckled and took the pamphlet. "Won't do much good now, with how the Estates-General is going."

Nino nodded solemnly and Marinette's brow furrowed.

"What do you mean? Is it not going well?"

Alya looked to Nino who shook his head. "They can't even get past the first grievance."

"What does that mean?"

"The first thing they were supposed to discuss was how to count to votes of each decision, and they can't reach an agreement on this," Alya explained.

"So they're stuck arguing on how they're going to vote to change things?"

The Lahiffe's both nodded, and Marinette felt the sense of dread wash over her.

"It's hopeless, isn't it…"

Nino shook his head. "M. Sieyès has proposed another assembly in which the Third Estates will decide a new government with or without the other two estates."

"What good is that going to do?" Marinette stood and started pacing by the bar. "No, we have to do something else, something to let the pigs in Versailles know we will not stand for this!"

Alya stood and put her arm on Marinette's back. "Come to our meeting tomorrow," she said. "We will discuss this more then. For now, Marinette, go home to your parents."

Marinette took a breath and rifled in her purse for a few coins to give to Nino for the drink.

"On the house, Marinette," he said, pulling her glass away. "I hope to see you tomorrow."

"I will be there, most definitely."

Marinette left the Red Lion and went back to the bakery. She snuck upstairs to her room, and removed her dress. She shoved the bloodstained and flour covered dress into the fir and watched the flames consume the fabric. Tikki had made her that dress for her most recent birthday…and now it was gone.

* * *

Marinette could hardly believe she was actually doing this. Not only was she violating curfew, but she was probably just about to commit treason against her King and country. She approached the Red Lion, and tried to open the door. It was locked so she knocked on the door. A panel slid back to reveal a set of grey-blue eyes Marinette had never seen before.

"Who comes to knock at my door at this late hour?" the voice that belonged to the eyes said.

When they ask who is calling say- "Jacques," Marinette said simply.

The panel slid back and Marinette heard the latch lifting. The door opened and a hulking man stood in the doorway, he moved aside to let Marinette in.

"Welcome, brother," he said as Marinette crossed the threshold.

"Marinette, you came!" Alya said as she moved to take her cloak off. She was wearing a mask, and she moved closer to Marinette. "Leave your cloak on, I'll take you to the back. You'll need one of these." She handed Marinette a domino mask. "And we all have _nom de plums_ so as to keep our identities secret. Call me Lady W, but you don't have to have one for the first meeting."

Marinette put the mask on and followed Alya to a back room in the Alehouse, in which several people were seated at a table. They were all wearing masks as well.

"Everyone, welcome our new member to the group," Alya announced.

They nodded to Marinette and she sat at the table next to Alya. Nino came to stand at the front of the table and called the meeting to order. He announced the same information regarding the Estates-General as he had told Marinette the day before, as well as the proposed assembly by M. Sieyès.

A girl with light red hair and blue eyes raised her hand.

"Yes, Timebreaker?"

"What about the shootings yesterday? What is to be done about that?" she asked.

Nino sighed and shook his head. "There be nothing to do. Who shall we report it to? The coppers will do nothing."

"We can't just sit and do nothing!" exclaimed an older man from the back of the room.

"Why don't we find the flour and give it to bakeries who will sell bread at a low price?" Marinette offered.

Everyone was silent as they looked at the new member.

"But- how would we do that?" asked another woman with black hair.

Marinette looked to Nino, who nodded at her, just as intrigued by what Marinette had said.

"We can't make a lot of plans without knowing exactly where the flour is, so we'll have to come back. But my- I mean, I have contacts at a bakery and I'm sure they would take the flour in return for keeping the price down. And I could see about finding other bakeries willing to do the same."

The girl, Timebreaker, raised her hand. "But won't the guards connect the rise in bread sales to the missing flour."

"Not if we're careful about how much we give out, and to who."

"You're making a lot of assumptions," said another man from the back of the room. "First that we can find the flour, second that we can get it, third that these bakeries will comply with our demands, and fourth that we have the capability to regulate the distribution of it."

Marinette nodded. "We won't take anymore than we are prepared to handle. And anyway every plan in existence has risks. If anyone does not wish to participate, they should let us know now."

No one stood or said anything, and Marinette breathed deeply.

"It is crucial that we find the flour. Keep your ears to the ground, if anyone has any information as to where it might be kept, please don't hesitate to tell us."

Yet another man scratched the back of his neck before raising his hand and Marinette nodded at him. He seemed to be more well dressed than the others, an his hair was cut neatly rather than pulled back in a pony's tail.

"I had heard tell that deliveries for the crown were being kept in a warehouse on the outskirts of Paris near Versailles," he said.

"Could you find exactly where that is?"

He scratched his chin, and then nodded. "I would be willing to try."

"Thank you, kindly, sir."

"Who do you think you are that you can just show up and tell us what to do?" Timebreaker asked.

"She's our lucky charm, Timebreaker," Alya said simply.

Marinette blinked, and immediately thought about Tikki. "Just call me Ladybug."

* * *

The servant Adrien had bid contact him should the Estates-General move on from the topic of votes never reached out to him. He was frustrated and angry, the assembly had deliberated for nearly three weeks, and nothing at all was reached. In fact, they didn't even reach any of the things on their agenda.

But today was a new day, and Nathalie was going over the schedule for the day with him. He was to have breakfast with his entourage and then convene for his daily exercise, the latter his entourage usually conveniently "forgot" to join him for.

"You'll be happy to know that Lord Reyer has recovered from his illness-"

"Wait, who?" Adrien interrupted to ask.

"Lord Reyer, he is one of your father's ministers."

"What does he do?"

Nathalie looked at the piece of parchment she was reading from, her eyes scanning up and down. "I do not have that information at hand."

"Well, send him my good wishes, some flowers or some such."

Nathalie scratched this note onto the parchment, and moved onto the next item. Apparently he was to have tea with Lady Chloe today, which he desperately did not want to do.

"Must I?" he asked her.

"She is an eligible lady of your age and very near to your station."

Adrien's entire world froze when the gravity of the implications fell on him. "No, I refuse," he said plainly.

Nathalie sighed and let her hands fall to her sides. "I am merely suggesting, your highness. You are nearly 21 and have had no inclinations towards marriage, so it would fall to me to find you a bride."

"It is not that I am disinclined to marry, just disinclined to marry Chloe. Or any woman in Versailles for that matter."

Nathalie crossed her arms over her chest and pursed her lips. She was not amused in anyway. "It's Lady Chloe to you, Prince Adrien. And unless you plan on walking outside Versailles to pick a bride off the street, you will not have many options."

"Well, perhaps if I was allowed outside the gates, I would."

Nathalie's whole body went stiff. "You're father has assigned me to take care of your every need, your highness, and I have done so to the best of my ability. Lady Chloe is a fine lady, and you may find she could be a good queen. You ought to give her a chance."

Adrien decided it was not worthing picking a fight over, and sighed. "I shall go to tea, but I won't marry her."

Nathalie nodded, satisfied. He left for the dining room to join his entourage for breakfast. The same old boring conversation was held as Adrien picked at his eggs and ham. Finally he excused himself to change into less formal attire for his daily run.

The air was fresh, and the sun was shining off of white clouds contrasting with the bluebell color of the sky. Adrien jogged through the gardens, and reveled in the solitude and silence. He was about halfway through with his run when he spotted a familiar figure laying at the bottom of a tree. He let out a chuckle as he jogged over to where Plagg was laying down.

He crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head as he discerned whether or not the older man was sleeping, awake, or dead. Judging from the steady rise and fall of his chest, and the high pitched noise from when he breathed in, Adrien assumed he was sleeping, and kicked his foot lightly. Plagg only grunted in his sleep and settled further into the tree.

Adrien leaned down and poked Plagg's stomach. This escalated into the prince shaking the knight awake.

"I'm- I'm up! Fire, invaders! Yes, my king!" he said groggily, still not completely awake. His eyes focused on Adrien and his face fell. "Oh, it's just you."

Adrien chuckled as he sat next to Plagg. "Disappointed?"

"A bit. At least if you had food or were a beautiful woman I could've gotten something out of it." Plagg sat up and leaned against the tree, closing his eyes and putting his hands behind his head.

"Whatever happened to your fine woman?"

Plagg shrugged. "She couldn't object to me looking if she never knows about it."

Adrien sighed and started playing with the grass. "How are things for you, Plagg?"

Plagg shrugged. "Better than those saps in Paris, I suppose."

"Yes, I heard about how the Estates-General turned out."

"The people seem to be fighting back, however."

Adrien furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?"

"Didn't you hear about the robberies the other night?"

"Robberies."

"The flour that was imported was packed away and heavily guarded before it could be distributed. The warehouse was broken into and some of the sacks were taken."

"Weren't a few sacks lost in the riots?"

Plagg nodded solemnly. "Aye, but they're sure there are some missing. 'Tis happened a few times now."

"That flour was for the citizens of Paris, who would take it?"

Plagg shrugged. "Perhaps someone looking to make a profit."

"Something has to be done, Plagg, before they take more."

"If you're suggesting I go and guard the warehouse, you've got another thing coming."

Adrien bit his lip, and a crazy, stupid idea popped into his head. "No, I'm suggesting I guard the warehouse."

Plague's eyes flew open and he eyed Adrien. "No, I refuse."

"Why not? I won't directly engage them, I'll just watch to see who it is, and then I'll find a way to tell the authorities."

"I refuse to participate in risking the life of the Dauphin of France."

"You were the one who suggested I hop over the wall and go to Paris."

"Going to Paris is one thing, but watching and waiting for robbers is another. Even, then you wouldn't last a day in the city."

"Watch me, I'll go tonight, and you'll see."

Plagg sighed, and stood. "Come with me." He started walking out of the palace gardens and Adrien followed.

They walked a ways out of the general area of the palace to the various houses for the nobility, and, far down the row, Plagg walked into a short and stout house. Adrien dutifully followed. He'd never been in this small of a home before, and he found the space to be quite homey, if not a bit cramped.

Plagg left him in a dining room, and headed up the stairs. Adrien looked around at the various jars and glasses in the house. On the table were letters all written in the same handwriting. Adrien peeked at the top of one.

" _I am glad to hear you appreciated the cheese I sent you. 'Tis Paris' finest, which is not saying much, I know. I have none to give you now, money has become tight at the moment. Please, my dear Plagg, do not send me any, I am very capable on my own. I have a young apprentice who takes care of me, and she is a joy. She spends too much time, money, and effort on me when she has parents that are struggling themselves. But I appreciate every gesture she makes for me._ "

As Adrien heard Plagg's footsteps on the stairs, he backed away so as not to be caught reading letters he had no business reading. Plagg walked into the dining room, and handed over a pair of black breeches, a black shirt, and a black mask with cat ears adoring the top.

"Here, you shall need these," Plagg said.

"What are they?"

"The shirt and breeches are for concealment, you'll need black stockings and boots, but I hope you can provide those. The mask is one I wore during the Seven Years War."

Adrien's eyes widened and he looked back up to Plagg. "You were in the war?"

Plagg nodded. "How did you think I came to be a knight?"

Adrien shrugged. "Men are given the title for merely being the son of a knight these days."

Plagg nodded. "Well, I earned my title, rightly. They called me _Chat Noir_ , I did a great serve to my king and country."

Adrien nodded, reaching with shaking hands towards the mask and clothes. "Why give this to me?"

"I doubt you want anyone to know the Dauphin is walking the streets of Paris."

Adrien wrapped his hands around the clothes, but then pushed them back to Plagg. The knight's face fell, but Adrien reassured him.

"If I take them with me, they'll most certainly be found in my apartments, leave them here and I'll be back for them tonight."

Plagg nodded. "I shall be waiting here for you, my good sir."

Adrien suddenly realized he had been on his run for a very long time, and he should be getting back to get changed for the midday meal. He excused himself, and headed back to the palace, once again inviting Plagg to join his entourage (which he, once again, declined).

His manservant was waiting for him once he returned to his apartment, and made no comment as to how long he'd been waiting (which Adrien was sure was a long time). It seemed to Adrien that the only time anyone told him he was doing anything wrong was when he was actively trying to learn about his own people in order to be a good king.

 _How ironic,_ he thought to himself.

* * *

Nathanael could already feel the sweat collecting at the top of his brow as he sat at the table with Sir Kim, a knight he had met at Versailles. Kim had connections in the court, mostly through his association with the Lady Chloe Bourgeois, and he had managed to secure them spots in Prince Adrien's entourage, at least for the meal and then to observe badminton afterwards.

" _Only speak when you're spoken to, and it'll be fine,_ " Kim had said.

He was shaking, and Kim nudged Nathanael's knee with his own.

"Stop looking so nervous," he said.

"I'm sorry, I have never seen the prince before."

"He looks like every other man."

Just then the door opened and the herald announced, "His royal highness, Prince Adrien, Dauphin of France."

Everyone stood, and Nathanael did his best to not spring out of his chair and into the air out of nervousness.

The prince took one step into the room, and matched both feet against the marble floor. He wore a silver coat and matching breeches, a yellow shirt, and silver vest. His stockings were white, and, undoubtedly, made of pure silk, and his black shoes shone. He carried no cane or hat, and his hair was cut messily rather than in a pony's tail. His green eyes scanned the room lazily, falling on Kim and Nathanael for a breath, and then looking away. Nathanael breathed easy when he didn't focus on the two of them, and squirmed a little as they had been standing there an awful long time.

The prince moved decisively to the head of the table with a swagger most attempted, but none achieved. A servant pulled the chair back for him, and he sat at the head. He sniffed, and waved his hand. This was apparently the cue to sit, and Nathanael scrambled back into his seat.

As the food was served, the prince motioned to one of his associates, an older woman with sharp features. They spoke in hushed tones, and then finally, the prince spoke directly to Kim and Nathanael.

"I don't believe I have seen either of you here before," he said, plucking a grape from his plate, and popping it his mouth.

"I- I am Sir Kim, your highness, and this is my companion, Nathanael Monette," Kim said, gesturing to himself and to Nathanael.

"What is your station, Nathanael Monette?" asked a lord from across the table to the two new comers.

Nathanael swallowed and side-eyed Kim.

"He's an artist, he painted 'Le Jeune et Beau,'" Kim said.

"Ah, Lord Soucy's new painting, very good, very good," said another lord from further down the table.

"But he is a commoner," said the first lord who spoke. "A commoner at the prince's table."

The lord's started speaking in hushed whispers as Nathanael's cheeks burned.

"If you are going to point fingers based on lack of titles, Lord Foss, you may be the first to go," said the prince, who did not look up from his own food. "M. Monette, I welcome you to our table."

The lords started gossiping even louder, and Lord Foss's face turned red. The prince seemed unperturbed, and continued eating.

The prince's associate leaned down to whisper in his ear, and he finally stopped eating. He listened to her a moment, eyes flicking to Nathanael and back.

"M. Monette?" he said commandingly, making the rest of the lords go silent.

"A- aye, your highness?" Nathanael shakily replied.

"I have never seen 'Le Jeune et Beau' at Lord Soucy's, but I have heard nothing but positive things about this particular painting. Would you be interested in painting myself and a few of my entourage?"

Nathanael's eyes widened and his jaw dropped. "Th- there is nothing that would please me more, th- thank you, my prince," he spluttered.

"Delightful, please speak to Mme. Sancouer after the meal to discuss. Any provisions you will need will be provided by the crown."

Nathanael nodded vigorously, and picked at his food. The lords went on talking, but he tuned them out for a moment to revel in his happiness.

"Can you imagine the nerve?" was the next thing he heard. Immediately his face turned red and he assumed they were talking about him.

"Never did trust those dirty Parisians," said another lord, completely glossing over the fact that Nathanael was Parisian.

"How did they even get in?" asked another.

"What are they talking about?" Nathanael whispered to Kim.

"The flour robberies," Kim answered.

"The guards said they didn't see anyone except a woman in red with a mask," said another lord.

"This was, undoubtedly to distract the guards."

Nathanael noticed that the prince, who had before been listening arbitrarily, now followed the conversation closely. His eyes were bouncing back and forth as each lord gave their two-sense about the robbery.

"I don't understand why it is such a widely discussed topic," Kim piped up. "What is it to us if the flour is taken?"

"Perhaps it is the peculiarity of the robbers rather than the nature of the crime," the Prince said cooly, his eyes fixed on Kim. "Not only is it a figure dressed in red, a very striking color if there was one, but a woman nonetheless. What does she want with the flour? Is she selling it? Giving it away? Hoarding it?" The prince wiped his mouth with the napkin and stood, the rest of the sitting lords following. "Time for badminton, I'd think," he said, and made strides towards the door. The rest of the lords followed.

Nathanael shoved the rolls he had been saving for last into his pockets and stuffed the last of his mutton into his mouth. He tailed behind Kim as the last in the large group, and chewed on the mutton thoughtfully.

* * *

 **A/N: the flour riots were real, and the guards did really shoot into the crowd. It just goes to show how desperate the people were.**

 **When I started writing this, I had so many ideas and dreams, and now they've all dried up**

 **No reviews necessary, thank you for reading.**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Summary: Ladybug deflours the aristos, one sack at a time. Chat Noir wants to help.

 **A/N: Thank you for all the support, I'm sorry about the infrequent updates but I doubt there will be a consistent upload schedule for this fic**

 **Thanks to hailey79726, An Amber Pen, MiraculousLadybugFan995, Herbert, SilverBlood5, and HarryGob for reviewing the last chapter.**

* * *

Marinette breathed as easily as her corset would allow, staring through a crack in the fence as the guards circled the flour stacks. They had doubled the number since they had last visited now. She had promised this was the last time they would go out to steal flour. They were in the process of planning their next strike.

She smoothed down the front of her shirt as they crouched. The simple outfit was in one of the most garish shades of red Marinette had every seen. They called her Ladybug so it made sense, but she preferred to think of it in a different light. She had been washed in the blood these guards had spilled and now she was here to take what was rightfully hers.

Tikki had made the outfit for her, complete with red mask over her eyes. Her hair was pulled back in two pony's tails, each one behind her ears, and tied with red ribbon. She visited Tikki's everyday, and she told her about the Resistance meetings. The day after Marinette had told her about their plans to take the flour, she gave her the all red costume.

"You must live up to your name," she said. "And you will be less recognized if you wear such a loud color."

The man directly behind her nudged her foot and she titled her head back slightly in acknowledgement. _Hurry up,_ was what it meant. Bubbler and the others were getting nervous.

Finally she saw an opening and gave the signal. Timebreaker went first, taking down the first guard with a cloth to the mouth and dragging them away. Then Bubbler, then Mime, etc. Until finally she, the last one, stepped in. All the guards had been rendered unconscious, and she nodded at them to take the sacks.

"'Tisn't that nice to take things that aren't yours." The voice had come from the darkness and the fighters all turned as a man in all black with messy blonde hair sauntered into the dim light. He had a smirk that would put anyone to shame as he looked up at the small group.

Marinette waved at the Fighters to keep going, as she stepped towards the newcomer. He brandished the sword he had tied to his belt, and Marinette held up her hands to indicate she meant no harm. His eyes traveled up and down her body and she did her best not to fidget. He smiled once more at her before lunging at her with his sword.

She pulled the disk from her belt and flung it out at him, hitting him in the chest. She pulled the disk back by the string and surveyed his reaction. He was, understandably surprised, but got over this very quickly.

He once again thrusted his sword towards Marinette, this time she wrapped the string of the disk around the blade held on tight. He tried to shake her off several times until finally his blade got free. She whipped the disk back into her hand. He would attack and she would parry with her disk back and forth many times until finally he knocked the disk out of her hand. Her foot tangled with his, and she tripped backwards onto her back.

She held her hands up in surrender as he held the tip of the blade between her eyes.

"You thought you could defeat me, but you were wrong," he said triumphantly.

"I didn't have to defeat you," she said, ignoring the sword and looking right into his eyes. "I just had to keep you occupied."

He suddenly looked up and around and realized that Fighters were gone, along with a few sacks of flour.

"Judas!" he swore.

Marinette took the moment, and reached her foot up to kick the sword out of his hand. There was a sound of clattering metal and Marinette jumped up to run for the door. This was short lived as the man in black tackled her to the ground, wrapping his arms around her body.

"No you don't!" he exclaimed as he wrestled with her. She was thrashing and kicking wildly, finally making him wrap his legs around hers.

Marinette finally stopped when she realized he'd won this one. While he clearly had underestimated her, but that didn't change the fact that he was bigger and heavier than her.

"Let me go," she gasped out. The combined effort of her corset and the man's arms weren't doing good things for her lungs.

"Why should I do that? You're a thief!" he exclaimed.

"The- then…" Marinette gasped for breath as she tried to defend herself.

"What?" He let go of her slightly and she breathed deeply.

"Then turn me in, but let me go."

"Where are you taking the flour? It's for the people of Paris."

She scoffed as well as she could while still in her stranglehold. "For a pretty penny, 'tis. The flour 'tis with the people of Paris, in their bellies, for 7 silver pieces a loaf!"

"You made it into bread?"

"In a manner of speaking, aye."

"7 silver pieces is hardly a fair price!"

Marinette twisted her face to his to see if he was joking, but his face was serious.

"Aye, we ought to give it for free, but the bakers must make a living somehow. 'Tis better than 30, which is what the crown was charging for the flour."

"30?"

"Aye, sir. Did y'not know?"

He let go of her suddenly and she breathed deeply. He stood and looked over her as she breathed heavily.

"You're giving this flour to the people free of charge."

She nodded. "Aye, sir."

"Was this your plan all along?"

"To be honest, I had not expected to be accosted."

His eyes widened and he smirked. "It appears you have de- _flour_ ed us."

She furrowed her brow at his change of attitude so quickly. He held out his hand to help her up and she made a face at it, batting it away as she got up. She brushed off the front of her shirt and breeches. The man was leaning over to pick up his sword and she turned to run out the door.

"Wait," he called out to her. "You dropped your- uh, whatever this is."

Marinette turned back and the man was only a few steps away, holding his hand out with her disk in it. She eyed him warily as she reached out to take the disk back. Some of the red paint had come off, exposing the wood underneath, but she tucked it into her belt regardless.

"You're with the Resistance, aren't you? You're trying to help people," he told her.

"That be the plan," she said.

"M. Sieyès's National Assembly said they were against violence. Why are you doing this?"

"The people are starving, sir! These very guards shot people in the street for trying to take the flour! Sometimes when things don't change on their own you must make them do so."

He said nothing, only looked at her intensely, and she fidgeted under his gaze.

"Aren't you going to rouse the guards or some such?" she asked

"I will make you a deal," he offered. "Let me join you, and I won't call the guards."

She balked at this offer, inching further towards the door. "I don't even know your name, sir."

He seemed surprised at this comment, then pensive, and then finally his smirk slid over his lips. "They call me Chat Noir, mademoiselle." He bowed deeply for her. "And you are?"

"Uh- Ladybug."

He took a step forwards as Marinette took another step back. She felt as though this wasn't really happening. That this whole surreal situation was occurring in a dream or to someone else, and she was merely experiencing it secondhand.

"Ah, Mlle. Ladybug, a pleasure to meet you." He reached for her hand to kiss her knuckles, but all she could do was push him back by the bridge of his nose.

She took another step back and he took a step forwards. "Just Ladybug, and let us get back to the matter at hand. I cannot just let you into our group."

He crossed his arms over his chest and raised one eyebrow. "Why not?"

"Considering you just tried to halt our plans to take the flour, I am sure they would not be willing to trust you right away."

"Allow me to prove myself, my lady," he said.

"Just Ladybug, and how could you prove yourself to me?"

"However you deem fit."

Marinette was about to say no, but stopped herself. If he was indeed willing to try and earn her trust, she could have him help her in more dangerous plots, ones she was not willing to risk a large group on. And if worst came to worst, and he did end up being a traitor, she would only be risking her own life rather than the entire groups. And they could always use another hand helping, and a mind planning.

She sniffed and smoothed down the front of her shirt, turning back to the man who called himself "Chat Noir." "Alright, you will meet me on top of this building tomorrow night," she said.

His eyes lit up and he rushed forward to embrace her. She pushed him away and took a step back.

"Thank you, my lady, thank you," he exclaimed, bowing deeply for her.

"Just 'Ladybug', please, sir."

"Ah, then you must call me 'Chat'."

She nodded and backed towards the door. "I will be going now. Do not follow me." She turned to run out the door.

"I would never dream of it, my lady."

"'Tis 'Ladybug'!" She shouted over her shoulder as she ran out the door.

* * *

The ground made a small thump as Adrien's feet landed next to the wall in the back of Plagg's yard. He was still in a daze. That very night he had met an angel in red.

He crossed the yard to Plagg's house to the back door, and crept in. He wasn't sure if Plagg was awake or not.

Adrien jumped as he realized Plagg was right inside the room, facing the door, sitting in a chair. He breathed a sigh as he realized Plagg was asleep. He gently nudged the knight awake, and he started with a jump.

"Wh- what-"

"Plagg, Plagg, 'tis I, Adrien," Adrien assured him.

"Ah, made it back alive, did you?"

"I did, sir."

"How did it go?"

"I hid in the shadows, just as you suggested, and, shortly after midnight, I caught them in the act."

"So you stopped them?"

Adrien felt his face burn red with embarrassment. "Uh, no. The woman in red…distracted me…"

Plagg crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. "Distracted you how?"

"She and I fought while her companions got away."

"So she outsmarted you?"

Adrien nodded his head ruefully, but then a smile crossed his lips. "She was beautiful, Plagg, you should've seen her, so strong and self-assured."

"She's a thief." Plagg did not seem impressed at Adrien's love-lorn attitude.

"She's helping people, Plagg. They're giving the flour to the people directly rather than selling it to them. She's going to let me help. Tomorrow night I am to meet her and help."

Plagg narrowed his eyes, and sniffed. "Ah, young love."

Adrien felt his cheeks once again, but didn't deny this claim. "I have only just met her."

"Sometimes that is all it takes, little prince."

"May I leave these things here, and come back to meet her again?"

Plagg shrugged. "How can I say no to the Dauphin, but you must promise me something."

"What?"

"Do not get caught, and do not die."

"Those are two things, Plagg."

"You must swear to me, as a gentleman."

"I swear, as a gentleman, I swear I will not get caught nor will I die on the streets of Paris."

Plagg shook his head, and reached for a bottle on the table. He took a swig of the beverage and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

"I should get back to my room before I am caught. Goodnight, Plagg." Adrien stripped himself of his shirt and sword, giving them both to Plagg. He put his own shirt back on, and left out the front to go back to bed.

* * *

Marinette spent the next day walking the streets of Paris. She visited Tikki and told her of last night's endeavor.

"There was someone waiting for us, that we did not anticipate. We have decided to move on from flour to other exploits, to be determined at our next meeting," Marinette said, while sitting with Tikki at her table.

There was significantly less furniture and decorations in her house now. No doubt, Tikki had sold them for a little extra money. It had been nearly a month since Chloe Bourgeois had ruined Tikki's business, and if Marinette possessed all the wealth in Versailles, she would send both her parents and Tikki to England or the new country of America to get them away from all of this unrest.

"Who was waiting for you? The captain of the guard?" Tikki asked.

"No, 'twas some impertinent young man dressed all in black and calling himself 'Chat Noir.'"

Tikki's face fell and she seemed to freeze in place at the mention of the name. "Did- did you say 'Chat Noir'?"

"Aye…? Tikki, are you alright?" Marinette leaned forwards and tried to feel Tikki's forehead.

Tikki slapped her hand away playfully. "What did he look like?"

"He was was fair haired and skinned, tall, with bright green eyes."

Tikki sighed a little, this information seemed to put her at ease.

"Tikki, do you know him?"

Tikki shook her head. "Not him, but who he claims to be. I knew the first Chat Noir, during the war."

"You mean there is more than one?"

Tikki nodded. "Apparently so."

"So, then Ladybug and Chat Noir meet once again."

Tikki nodded and shrugged. "It must be fate." She sent Marinette away soon after, claiming she was too young to be sitting around with "old fogies such as I."

Tonight she would be meeting the mysterious black stranger, Chat Noir at the warehouse. But first, she decided to stop by the Red Lion to speak to Alya and Nino.

As soon as she entered the Red Lion, Alya pounced from her seat behind the bar and dragged Marinette to the back room. She embraced Marinette in a tight hug.

"Timebreaker told me you stayed behind, are you alright?" she asked.

"I am, I am," Marinette said as she was let go. "This man dressed in black, calling himself Chat Noir, was trying to protect the flour?"

"Ah, so those dirty aristos have some hired help."

"Nay, he thought were stealing the flour to sell for our own gain. He changed his tune once I told him we were giving it to the poor."

"So he will not be bothering us again."

Marinette gulped and nodded. Marinette soon excused herself and headed back home to finish up at the bakery. She felt bad about lying to Alya, but it was better than telling her the truth.

Marinette had concocted a brilliant plan to get the flour to her parent's bakery. Alya and Nino sold the sacks to Marinette's parents, acting as merchants from the country. Everything was done through paper, except for when Tom met Nino to deliver the flour. Nino took the money, and Marinette slipped it back into their parent's cash box (despite Marinette's pleas to let the Lahiffe's keep at least some as a thank you. Alya always said, "Your parent's are going to need all the money they can get for a while.")

Sabine was practically singing this morning, from all the bread they were able to make and sell. So many people came in with tears in their eyes as they were able to feed themselves and their children. Marinette could not bring herself to feel guilty about stealing the flour when those people looked so thankful.

The end of the day did not come soon enough. Marinette kissed her parents goodnight, and stole up the stairs to her room to change her clothes. After putting on her costume, she crawled into bed and waited for her parent's usual snoring to commence. After an hour of sitting and waiting, she finally heard her father's snores rising above her own breathing. She smiled to herself in that moment, forgetting about the flour, and her rendezvous with the mysterious Chat Noir, and merely listened to her parents sleep.

She finally tore herself away from her bed, and through the window onto the roof.

* * *

Adrien sighed and bounced on his heels. The mysterious Ladybug had not specified a specific time, and so he had been waiting for nearly an hour for her to meet him. He was becoming bored, and worried. If she didn't show up, it would be a waste of an evening. If he left, and she did come, he would lose his chance to make a change.

He looked once more over the city, with only a few fires lit for light, and set his hand on the hilt of his sword. Plagg had absolutely insisted he take his own. Something about the image.

He pulled the sword out of the hilt, and brandished it with a flourish. Growing up, his fencing classes had been one of the only activities he'd enjoyed. It was powerful, and liberating. Thrust here, parry there, read your opponent and know where to strike. "Just like a panther," he whispered under his breath. He lunged at an invisible opponent, and slashed at the air with the thin blade.

"Playing with shadows, are you?"

The voice made him jump and he thrusted his sword towards the voice. Ladybug was several paces away, watching him.

"So glad you could join me, my lady," Adrien stated with a bow, and a flourish.

"Thank you for coming," she said, not moving from her spot.

Adrien sheathed his sword, and strode forwards. He reached for her hand to kiss, but she swatted his hand away.

"Meowch, my lady, I merely am trying to convey my gratitude for this chance to earn your trust."

She crossed her arms over her chest, and nodded towards the city. "We haven't got much time, follow me." And just like that she had disappeared down the side of the building, and Adrien had to chase after her.

As soon as his feet hit the ground, he had to chase after her once more. Up one alley and down another, across the street and down the roads of Paris.

"Where are we going?" he asked her when they paused to look around a corner.

She immediately whipped around and shoved him against the wall, covering his mouth. "Hush!" she commanded. Her eyes darted to the corner and there was a moment of silence as they waited. Adrien took this moment to take as good of a look he could in the dim light. She had pale skin, under all that grime of the streets, and hair so black it was nearly blue. And the smell, like newly baked bread.

"The guards patrol the city at night," she whispered to him. "If they find us breaking curfew, they will shoot us, and leave our bodies for the dogs to eat."

A cold shiver ran down his spine at her words. All of a sudden this alley was very small, and very dark, and the guards were right around the corner to shoot them. Ladybug moved away, and he suddenly felt small and terrified.

She began climbing the gas pipe of the building on the other side of the alley, and he watched her for a second, stupidly. When she was halfway up the pipe, she looked back and motioned for him to follow. He finally did so, climbing one rung after another.

 _Just like a panther,_ he thought to himself.

They reached the roof, and he stood next to Ladybug, staring over the city. They were both silent for a moment.

"You don't know anything about this city, do you?" Ladybug finally said, not looking at him.

"What?" Adrien asked, barely able to contain it.

"I don't know where you're from, but it isn't here. You're not Parisian like the rest of us, you don't understand."

"How- how do you know that?"

"You were surprised by the price of bread, as if you did not understand how our prices are. And you did not know about the guards at night."

Adrien swallowed the lump in his throat, and didn't say anything.

"You are French, though, correct?"

"Oui, oui, mademoiselle, I can promise you that. Or should I say chat."

She sighed and cracked a smile, and Adrien grinned at her. "I take it your life has been hard."

"If you're going to try and save these people, you have to know them first. That's what we will be doing at first, allowing you to know the city."

"Sounds good enough to me."

* * *

 **A/N: little Chat wants to grow up to be a panther, so cute**

 **Thanks for reading you guys, no reviews are necessary**


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Summary: Marinette snaps and Adrien proves his worthiness.

 **A/N: I live. Sorry guys college came back to slap me around a few times. I will do my best to make more regular updates, but I don't make a lot of promises. Some plot starts to kick in, but slow burn, like always.**

 **Thanks to Crash8573, LaRagazzaHales, mason32, TidePoolAngel, Yamina20, An Amber Pen, and MiraculousLadybugFan995 for reviewing.**

* * *

"My flour man is running out of his product," Tom said offhandedly while shoveling some coal into the furnace.

Sabine stopped kneading for a second, and reflected over this sentence. She looked over at her husband, and tried to read his stance, see if there was any hesitation or unsure.

"Did he say so?" she asked, sprinkling more flour on the bread and going back to kneading.

"He did not, but I had a feeling," he said. "Every time he attempts to bring less and less."

"What will you do if he has none?"

Tom shrugged. "Buy from the crown, I suppose."

"For 37 silver pieces?"

"There will be no other option, my love."

Sabine shook her head and sighed. "Let us not be so dramatic, we don't know he is running out of flour. Perhaps he only has so much and a great many clients, you don't know he is running out."

Tom scoffed and shook his head. "I'm not sure. I have asked some of our friends, and none of them have ever heard of DeFarge Farms."

"What does that mean, my love?"

"If the farms do not exist, where are they getting the flour from? The whole thing is shrouded in mystery."

"You are just being paranoid. The city air is getting to you, we should take Marinette and go to the country for the day."

"Even if we had the money to go to the country, it would be to stay. The city is only getting worse."

"Yes, I heard about the shootings."

"And now curfew is being enforced even stronger than before."

The two were silent for several moments as they continued with their work. Tom moved on to pulled the cooked bread out of the ovens, and putting a new batch in. He set his paddle down and wiped the sweat from his brow, looking over at his wife kneading the next batch of dough.

"My love, may I suggest something absolutely insane?" Tom asked.

Sabine flicked her eyes back up to him, but continued her work. "Depends on what is it."

"You have no doubt heard about the masked, I don't what you'd call them, night dwellers, in costumes."

"I have." Sabine sounded suspicious and worried, and stopped kneading.

"I suppose what I'm asking is that, can two separate but equally as unsettling things happen near to us at once?"

Sabine gave a thoughtful look as she dipped her hands in flour. "You are suggesting, of course, that the masked men and our new flour supplier are connected somehow?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I mean."

"That's nonsense. We don't even know if these masked men are real, everyone could be jumping at shadows."

"Mrs. Chamack said that she was saved from robbers by a man in black with a sword. Mr. Kubdel saw them running across the rooftops the other night."

"A good samaritan and mirages in the night, that is all they are."

Tom sighed and went back to his work. They said bread is life, and he was a baker of bread. So what does that mean for the people when he ran out of flour? He hoped that, if these masked men existed, they could do what no one thought possible.

* * *

Marinette huffed as the door was once again shut in her face. This was the third time today she had been turned away from a customer's door. Chloe Bourgeois word had traveled fast, but Marinette had hoped the customers who'd already ordered would at least take the order and pay. No such luck, and now they had pantaloons and dresses and suit-jackets to spare. It was a pity you couldn't eat fabric, they would've been sold out if that were the case.

She had been meeting Chat Noir for the past few days to patrol the streets, and so far she'd chalk the endeavor up to a fair deal with the man in black. Tonight she would be meeting him one more time before the meeting at the Red Lion tomorrow, and then she was hoping to take a few days off to get a few full night's sleep. She had told him a few times about the rebels she was involved with, vaguely, but she had also said she did not trust him enough yet to bring him to their meetings.

"You are a stranger to me and this city, what if you turn us in?" she had asked.

He had shrugged. "I would most certainly finally be able to see your face in all its glory, but it most likely would be at the end of a rope and not as beautiful as I am sure it is now."

She had rolled her eyes and tried to hide her smile. But before she called this day to an end to see him, she had one more order to try and deliver.

The house was fairly close to Versailles and Marinette got there quite late in the day, almost suppertime. She was loathed to walk that far because of the recent rain and the muddy streets, but this was for Tikki, and so she would do it. She knocked on the door and it was opened by a servant with an upturned nose.

"Bonjour, I have brought a delivery from Tikki's Jackets and Dresses for a M. Jean," Marinette said. Holding up the package for the servant to take.

The servant lazily blinked and looked behind him, chuckling to himself softly. His hand swiftly came up to knock the package out of her hands and into a giant puddle. Marinette shrieked and immediately bent down to pick up the package. This was a mistake, as the servant kicked her into the puddle as well. She heard him swear and spit.

"We don't want any of your inner-city trash, girl," he spat at her. "Go on and go back to the hole where you came from."

Marinette picked herself and the package up from the mud. "I am just a baker's daughter, monsieur. I have done you no ill-will. Why must you be this way?"

"You can thank the great Lady Chloe Bourgeois who enlightened my master to your ways. No go on, get!" He yelled at her and made as if to go after her again. Marinette scrambled with all of her packages and hurried down the street.

The whole way home she saw red, nearly knocking over half the people she walked past. When she arrived at Tikki's house, there was no one to greet her. No fires were lit, cloth covered the furniture. It was as if Tikki had gone away from this wretched city finally, but Marinette knew the truth. That Tikki was upstairs, still in bed in her nightgown either drunk or too melancholy to get more alcohol. Several letters from Plagg lay unopened on the counter, letting Marinette know she was not the only one to be worried about her friend. But instead of being sad, Marinette was angry all over again. Though her bruise had healed, she still felt the welt where the bitch's man had walloped her. She still felt the ache where Bourgeois had wronged them. And she would be the one to pay.

* * *

Adrien met Ladybug in the same place. He was nearly late because of Plagg. The knight's lady love had not been returning his letters and so he was half-distraught, and half-drunk, rambling on about his heroics at Pondecherry. Adrien comforted him as best he could, but had to excuse himself. It was not wise to keep a lady waiting, after all.

"Bonsoir, my lady," he said with a bow, but she did not say anything. "What nightly activity do you have planned for this night?" Ladybug was sitting on the roof, her hands pressed together in thought over her lips. She looked as though she were praying, but the set of her jaw and the squint of her eyes said otherwise.

She said nothing. Adrien swore he saw the ideas spinning in her head.

"Eh, perhaps you will have need of my sword tonight, or perhaps you have a more intimate night planned, mon ami." He smirked and bowed deeply once more to her, she finally snapped her eyes to his as if noticing him for the first time.

"Do you trust me, Chat Noir?" she asked.

He blinked at the question. "Oui, out, of course I do, I pledge my sword to you."

She scoffed, but ignored the remark otherwise. Adrien was sure she meant that he hadn't used his sword in the time they had gone out.

"We have gone out to the city many times, and we know the dangers they face. But how would you like to face a different danger tonight?"

Adrien was half excited, half suspicious at this. She didn't look like she was about to propose they kiss the night away, their bodies tangled on the floor as he'd dreamed about most nights, no, she looked quite half-mad from whatever plan she'd cooked up.

"I suppose…" he trailed off, keeping his hand on his sword.

"Perfect," she said. "We are less than a mile from the gate of Versailles, we will jump the gate, infiltrate one of the houses and bring the justice of the people to a she-devil, the Lady Chloe Bourgeois!"

Adrien was so shocked from the plan she proposed that he only caught part of what she said next. Something about how they would find the house and get over the wall to the neighborhood.

"Wait, wait, wait, what do you mean by 'justice', my lady?" he interrupted.

"You know perfectly well what I mean, Chat Noir. She will not live to see another sunrise."

"No," Adrien immediately replied. "I will not let you do this. This is not justice."

"She has wronged the people-"

"She has-" Adrien stopped himself and reassessed. He couldn't believe he was defending Chloe, but her life was at stake. "Whatever she has done, the lady herself is not the problem. You cry justice for the men murdered in the streets by the guards, but you propose to be no better than them."

"She deserves it!" Ladybug made as if to lunge at him, and Chat Noir drew his sword, thrusting it at her.

"Ladybug," he breathed, trying to stay calm. "You must calm down."

She spat and made as if to lunge at him, but he slashed his sword in her direction, and she backed up.

"You cannot even use that thing," she said with a snarl.

"You know I can," he said, falling into his stance. "And I know how you fight now."

She reached for her disk, but he batted her hand away with the flat side of his sword. She swore at him, her face red.

"Fine, I will go without you then." She started running towards the side of the roof and Adrien leaped after her, wrestling to the ground.

"Let me go, let me go!" she cried, squirming, elbowing him in the gut, in the eye, in the chest. Adrien lost his breath, but not his grip. He held on tight like a boa with it's prey, his eyes watering from exertion.

He grabbed her disk from her belt, and began to wind the wire-like string around her arms and torso. She kicked and he bound her legs. She screamed and he stuffed one of his black gloves in her mouth.

"I'm sorry, Ladybug," he said. "But I cannot let you do this. If this is our last night we see each other, it has been a pleasure making a difference with you. But if I ever hear you broke into Versailles to kill anyone, I would see it that you would never see the city again."

This finally got her to stop writhing and screaming against the glove. She was crying as well and Adrien couldn't help but touch her face. She initially flinched away, especially when he touched her mask, but eventually, she settled into his touch. He wiped his thumb along her cheek to wipe the tears away, and she closed her eyes to the sensation. By the time he pulled his hand away, he realized she was asleep.

* * *

He slept very little that night, leaning against the wall on the roof next to Ladybug, still bound. Though he'd taken his glove away, he did not untie her, unsure how she would be when she awoke. He kept vigil, his sword in his hand as he flitted between conscious and unconscious. He awoke to her struggling and groaning with exertion.

He hushed her and moved closer. The pre-dawn light painted the sky, and called him back to his room before his manservant arrived.

"Don't hurt yourself," he said, tugging at her restraints.

"I think I already have," she answered back. "Will you let me go?"

"Will you go to murder Lady Bourgeois before she wakes up?"

Ladybug shook her head. "No, I am too tired."

He started at her legs and untied her, winding the disk back up before handing it to her. She stretched her back and legs before taking the disk from him. She yawned and he fought his own yawn at the sight of her.

"Tell me, why kill C- Lady Bourgeois?"

Ladybug looked down and shook her head. "She wronged someone I love, one of my family. She has effectively ruined them, made their life unworthy living essentially because she could. And she must pay, they all must pay."

Adrien swallowed nervously. "All of them?"

"Oui, all aristos must pay for their crimes?"

"That's quite a large group you lump together."

She gestured to the palace, still shining despite distance and lack of light. "Look at them, they sit behind their walls and spit on us while we starve. They eat and throw parties while we die on the streets."

He shook his head. "You have never been to Versailles, have you?"

She shook her head. "Have you?"

He hesitate, then nodded.

"What is it like?" she asked.

He shrugged. "It is as superficial as you say, but you make it seem as though they wake up with curses on their lips for the third estate. This is not the case, they live their lives much like you- we do. The problem is the system, not them."

She seemed to be somewhere else as he spoke, and he stood.

"I must be going, else I will be missed. You ought to go home too, and sleep," he said.

"I've never slept near a man before tonight," she said, and Adrien jumped a little at the admonition.

He thought back and supposed he never had slept next to a woman either.

"I'm sorry you had to do so tied up." He turned as if to go.

"Chat," she called back and he turned. "Anyone else would've let me go, they would've let me kill her."

Adrien looked down but didn't say anything.

"I would've been caught if I went in, I would've been executed."

Adrien nodded sadly. "Yes, you would've."

She sighed and rubbed her eyes. "You've earned my trust, come back tomorrow night and I will take you to meet the Bubbler and Lady W."

Adrien's eyes widened and he raised his eyebrows in surprise. She had alluded to these mysterious figures that pulled strings from behind curtains, but she had made it clear she didn't trust him yet to take him. Now it was time, and he nodded.

"Until tomorrow, my lady." He turned away and jumped off the side of the roof onto the pipe he used to climb up.

* * *

 **A/N: Aristos are aristocrats if that wasn't clear. I hope you enjoy this chapter and find a lot more Love Square fics during this hiatus hell.**

 **No reviews necessary**

 **No flames please**


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Summary: "If you really look, you can see the people, and if you really listen, you can hear them starving."

Chapter Pairings: Tikki&Marinette, Plagg&Adrien, Plagg/Tikki, LadyNoir

 **A/N: Well hello, it's only been what, 3 months? I would apologize except life happened. But I'm 20 now, older wiser, more cynical. I realized I needed to set some more things up before I keep the plot moving.**

 **thanks to TidePoolDevil, Yamina20, An Amber Pen, CursedRedRose, and a guest all for reviewing**

* * *

Marinette did not go home. She rushed through the streets to Tikka's home, praying to see the loving face of her mentor and friend. The house was quiet when she slipped into the guest room, not even Tikka's loud snoring could be heard.

Fear gripped Marinette heart as she creeped through the hall to peer into Tikka's room. Her bed was made neatly, but there was no sign of the older woman.

"Tikki!" Marinette called out, probing the house for signs of life.

Silence.

"Tikki!" Marinette called out again, louder. She ran down the steps, only one thought in her mind. _Oh please dear gods, do not be what I fear-_

"Marinette, is that you?" Tikki said, walking calmly from her sewing room in the back to see Marinette thunder down the stairs.

"Tikki!" Marinette exclaimed in relief, she flung herself into Tikka's arms and breathed heavily.

"What is it, dear girl?" Tikki asked, unsure of what happened.

"I feared- I feared the worst. Oh Tikki, I've done, or almost done, a terrible thing."

"I'm afraid I've done, and almost done, very terrible things, _mon cheri_." Tikki let her go, and there was a faraway look in her eye. Marinette was sure she was thinking of the war, of Pondecherry. "But I'm afraid the worst that's happened to me is a hangover the size of France itself. Come here and tell me of your terrible thing, and I will tell you of mine."

* * *

"Prince Adrien, sir, please pay attention," Nathalie begged him, and Adrien willed his eyelids to open. But they felt like they weighed more than the marble walls and it was difficult.

"What could possibly be so important that it couldn't wait for a nap?" The dauphin whined.

"Your impending marriage, sir."

"Something is indeed impending in France, and nothing is going to stop it being so, not even my marriage to Chloe Bourgeois."

Nathalie seemed to brighten at his statement. "Does this mean you've consented to the marriage-"

Adrien could hardly believe what he was hearing. "No, it does not!" He stood and moved to the window. He pushed aside the curtain and gestured to the view outside of his apartments. "Look Nathalie, really look and listen."

She moved to stand beside him and looked out the window. "What am I looking at?"

"If you really look, you can see the people, and if you really listen, you can hear them starving."

Nathalie made an exasperated noise and pulled the curtain closed.

"Putting your marriage off by trying to invent problems of state will not work any longer, sir." Adrien balked and took a step back in surprise. "Now, I invited many young, eligible ladies to the upcoming ball-"

"Invent prob- People starving is not only a matter of state, Mme. Sacouer, but a matter of common decency. Those people are our people, and they are being imprisoned."

"I see we need to take Diderot out of our lessons. Anyway-"

"I will not go to this ball, I will not participate in any more of this."

Nathalie's eyebrow furrowed and her mouth set into a hard line. "You will go to the ball, and you will choose a suitable bride. Now, I will make your excuses for dinner, and you will sleep on this, and if you do not change your mind by tomorrow, there will be consequences."

Adrien grumbled his apologies as Nathalie left. He stomped back into his chambers and sent his man away at the first possible convenience. He donned his black costume, and stole out of his bedroom window. There was still perhaps an hour of sunlight left, but he could not wait.

Plagg was better today. He had received a letter from his lady-love in Paris, and seemed to be more sober than not.

"You ought to get her out," Adrien offered to the older man.

"Hmm?" Plagg looked up from sniffing a small plate of cheese. "Do you not think I've tried? She refuses to leave. She says Paris is in her blood and she would see it fall if it meant that blood would be spilled."

"The two of you met at Pondecherry."

Plagg shrugged. "Someday I will convince her to go, I think. But not today. She has a young woman that she worries about, her protege."

Adrien raised his eyebrows. "She too? We are quite the parallel."

Plagg looked up from his cheese to eye the prince up and down. "I would not flatter myself if I were you. You're just a pampered prince, she just a seamstress. Ladybug and I, we are everything. Chaos and creation, Lady Luck and misfortune."

"I think you mean, 'Lady Luck and Mister Fortune,'" Adrien offered with a grin. Plagg snorted. "And I'll have you know I've gained my lady's trust. She is taking me to her resistance group toni-" Plagg stood suddenly and clapped his large, black hand over Adrien's mouth.

"Shush, _petite dauphin_ , you don't know which walls have eyes and which ones do not," he whispered. Adrien nodded behind Plagg's hand. "Go now, meet this lady, gain her trust, save the city. Save my lady, and be back before anyone misses you."

"I will." Adrien grabbed his mask and sword, moving to the garden as he slipped the remains of his costume on. He had one foot over the garden wall before he remembered something. "Plagg!" He called out in a hushed shout.

"What?" Plagge called back, sticking his head out of the back door.

"Don't drink too much tonight, I prefer your insults when you're sober."

Plagg shooed him with a hand and pulled the door closed behind his head. Adrien dropped to the other side, keeping watch out for guards.

* * *

Marinette found Chat earlier than she had anticipated. Sounds of a scuffle cause her to search an alley, only to find a small scene as if from a play. Two men, one large and one medium sized against a tall, slim man in black. And to top it off, a woman was huddled against the wall, her clothing ripped half off her body. The two men were clearly overpowering Chat, but he was holding his own.

It only took a flick of the wrist to send her disk wrapping around the larger one's wrist as he raised it to bring a fist down on Chat's back.

"What is this here?!" He exclaimed.

" _Arreste!_ " Marinette exclaimed. "Disperse or I will call the guards!"

"Come out and fight, little girl," said the medium one. He had a scars over his face and neck that said it was not his first fight, nor would it be his last.

Marinette yanked her disk back, sending the man to the ground. While Chat fought off the other man, who had now produced a knife, Marinette tried to take down who she dubbed the Brute. He circled and she twirled her disk to keep him at a distance. Eventually they met and she had the rope around his neck. He went down and she immediately pulled it away. Chat was scaring off the Other Man screaming about justice while Marinette listened to the heartbeat of the Brute. It was still strong, and he would, undoubtedly, live to fight another day.

Chat was panting, he stood over her, a vision in black.

"Bonsoir, my lady, lovely evening, though not as much as you," he purred.

She shook her head. He looked almost like a hero until he opened that mouth. She stood and brushed the dust off.

"You shouldn't have yelled, the guards might hear," she scolded him as she walked out of the alley.

"Let them come, mess with this cat, you get the claws," he replied, flashing his sword as he followed her.

"Why do you fight with that, anyway?" She asked. "If you actually wanted to be effective, you would have a pistol."

"Meow-ch, big talk from a bug with a disk on a string."

Marinette shrugged. "Still."

"Pistols need to be loaded. A blade only needs to be sharp."

He had a point, and she did not speak until they reached the Red Lion. She knocked.

"Who comes to knock at my door at this late hour?"

"Jacques, and his friend," Marinette affirmed.

The eyes slid behind the panel and Chat Noir cleared his throat.

"They do know that I'm coming, don't they?" He asked, suddenly seeming very nervous.

Marinette nodded. "They know."

The door opened and Alya ushered them into the back room.

"It's nice to finally meet you Chat Noir, I'm Lady W. This is my husband, the Bubbler."

He shook hands with Nino and kissed Alya's hand. Marinette was impressed with his manners, but she said nothing about them.

"How is your knitting?" She asked Alya. _How is the list coming?_

"Not nearly as close to being done as I hoped to be." _It's going along, but not done._

"Keep at it." Marinette took her place at the head of the table and gestured for Chat to sit at her right hand. Everyone sat and Marinette called the meeting to order. "Everyone, we have a new addition to our group. This is Chat Noir. Now, the first item is of some major interest, so I'm told. Bubbler?"

Nino cleared his throat and stood. "Thank you, as you may know, the King is having a ball…"

* * *

 **A/n: I'm not BSing when I say I think I'll be updating again soon. I really wanna finish this story before I start anything else. Partly out of obligation and partly because I think it deserves to be done.**

 **As always thank you for reading, no reviews are necessary**


End file.
